


Reset Reset

by espioc



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Corporate greed, Excessive Drinking, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Prostitution, Slave coding, Wheeljack has bad coping mechanisms, mentions of/non-explicit sticky sexual interface, pretty much asexual wheeljack, the selling of illegal goods, wage gaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 13:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espioc/pseuds/espioc
Summary: The whole world is run by a select few people. The people with the money. You're either rich or poor. There's no in between. And if you're one it's unlikely you'll ever be the other.Wheeljack lives alone in the last remaining house outside the city. He works as a vendor on a street corner until he's given an offer he can't refuse. Or. More like an ultimatum. "Come work for me. Or lose everything you have."Wheeljack reluctantly agrees and finds himself diving headfirst into a world of wealth and excess. Where bots are slaves, and freedom is a fantasy. Far from anything Wheeljack can stomach.





	1. Corner to Corner to Corner

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of my weirder ones. Characters might be a bit more OOC than usual in this one. Also Acid Storm is a 'she' like she is in Cyberverse.

Wheeljack scratched at his finial, face so close to the datapad it nearly brushed his nose. The formula looked correct, from where he was sitting, but something about it just wasn’t right. Wheeljack knew that because it just wasn’t working. He would input his findings and be met with failure. It was frustrating.

Wheeljack grumbled to himself as he sat up. He pulled at his finial and retreated into his thoughts, trying to work with what he’d concocted. The light on his desk started to flicker, drawing Wheeljack out of his head. Wheeljack groaned and slapped the fidgety light. It flickered a few more times before going steady. Wheeljack returned to his work.

This one was going to work. Just like the rest, this one was going to work. Wheeljack was sure of it. And this time people would know about it. Wheeljack sighed, resting his forehead in his hands. He rubbed his aching brow and tried to keep his mind off everything but the datapad in front of him. How was he supposed to work if he can’t even think?

Wheeljack eventually gave in and looked around. Piles of datapads, old and new. Failed inventions. Working inventions. Ideas that never got the opportunity to be either. Something to go back to. Wheeljack grumbled to himself as he went back to his work. Before he could dive back in there was a red flash on his hud. Energy levels low. Time to refuel.

Wheeljack groaned. He slapped his light pen down on the desk and got off the stool. He flicked off the lamp and did the best he could with what little light he had to climb over all his stuff and make it to the other side of the room.

The house was small. One room, one berth, one desk, one shower. All on the same floor. The energon dispenser had one little table and chair in front of it. A small sink. Two cupboards. Most of Wheeljack’s stuff was stuffed into a corner by his desk, or under his desk. Around his desk.

Wheeljack tried to keep his house clean. The walls were stained, and the lights didn’t work very well, if at all. Wheeljack was the only one left on his block. He tried to keep the windows covered so he didn’t have to see the factory right down the street.

Wheeljack sighed into his cube.

Last house on the block.

The ones beside him were still standing but they were set for demolition the next day. Wheeljack was afraid they were going to knick his roof again like they did the last time they tore down houses. The ones behind him. The ones down the street. Across from him.

Wheeljack’s fingers tapped against his glass. Technically they couldn’t tell him to sell his house. But they could shut off his water. Shut off his energon. Shut off his light. Whoever they were. Wheeljack didn’t even know. He assumed it was a collective.

Most of Wheeljack’s neighbors had sold off and gone somewhere else. But Wheeljack wouldn’t be kicked out so easily. This was his house. This was where he’d lived his entire life. It was crap. But it was the only thing he felt like he owned in this world.

Wheeljack was, frankly, afraid to leave. He went to the city to work and shop, but he feared that someone would come along and take down his house while he was gone. It was almost time for work. Wheeljack was feeling the same sinking feeling in his spark that he did everyday. When he had to leave, and wasn’t sure what he’d be coming back to.

Wheeljack threw back the rest of his cube and stood up. He gathered his pack and tablet and headed out for the city. The roads over where he lived were rough on his wheels so he preferred walking for the first mile or two. When the roads smoothed out and there was a sign of people he leaped into car mode and rushed into the city.

The sky was grey above. The metal grey below. It was cracked and stained with grease and oil, and something Wheeljack probably didn’t want to know about. As he got further into the city it just got worse. Wheeljack ignored the grime on the edges of the buildings, and the dark build up on the edge of the sidewalk. The grey cloud that hung over the streets felt thicker between the buildings.

He set up on the usual corner, opposite the prostitutes and across the street from one armed guy, who always sat with a sign hanging around his neck hoping for loose change. Wheeljack passed him on the way to his own corner and passed him a few. They never exchanged anything else. It was routine by now.

Wheeljack set up his table. He put down the datapads, and the mind benders, and the energon goodies, and videos. He was a vendor. Whatever you needed, he had. He got a lot of business selling protection to the prostitutes, and whatever their drunk clients needed to keep the booze down. Anything else people needed was kept in Wheeljack’s bag, away from prying eyes.

Additional goods included tasers, small firearms, pepper spray, pain killers, dildos, lubricant, talon files, pornography, cigarettes, cygars, sparked tests, fluid tests, other drugs that won’t get a bot high, and anything else a bot could think of. Some of his stuff wasn’t necessarily legal. But they didn’t talk about that.

Wheeljack settled in his seat and played with one of the little brain teasers he sold while waiting for his first client of the day.

It came in the form of a green hand.

“Usual,” Acid storm said, slamming her money on Wheeljack’s table.

“You got it,” Wheeljack said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a box. Acid Storm snatched it and hid it in her subspace. “And give me one of those books, I’m gonna be board tonight.”

Wheeljack handed over a pile of datapads. “Take yer pick.”

Acid Storm shuffled through them until she picked one out and handed back the rest. “You know, you should really get more money for your stuff.”

“Clients can’t afford it.”

Acid Storm scowled. “Speak for yourself.”

“How’s school?”

“Stupid,” she knocked her knuckles on the table. “I’ll probably be back.”

“Good luck tonight.”

Acid Storm just scoffed. But muttered “yeah you too,” right there at the end.

Wheeljack leaned back and waited for the rest of his regulars. One came up, dragging with him a new face Wheeljack hadn’t seen before. Thundercracker smiled at Wheeljack and asked for the usual. The bot beside him cringed. “You buy protection from a street vendor?” he whispered, loud enough for Wheeljack to hear.

“Aw, Jackie’s clean,” Thundercracker said, waving his friend off and gathering his stuff. He introduced his friend. “This is Ion Storm, he’s new.”

“Ah, nice to meet ya, Ion Storm. Wheeljack. Anything I can get ya?”

Ion Storm, despite trying, couldn’t hold down the cringe. “No thanks,” he said.

Wheeljack shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“You really sell protection?”

Well, that came out of nowhere. Wheeljack nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said.

“Where do you get it?”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “I don’t think that’s any’a yer business.”

“Then why’s Thundercracker say I have to trust you?”

“‘Cause don’t matter where I get it, I don’t buy cheap. You can trust me, Newbe-” Wheeljack lifted his hands to show his palms. “I’m clean.”

Thundercracker knocked Ion Storm with his knuckle. “Come on,” he muttered. “Buy something or quit bothering him. This is the one I was telling you about.”

Ion Storms eyes widened. “You’re Jackie?”

“The one and only.”

“So what- do you make all this stuff?”

“Depends. What stuff?”

“I want one.”

“One?”

“One of your- I want the thing. The thing you made.”

Wheeljack perked. “Oh. That. Okay, one second.”

Wheeljack went digging in his pack. He pulled out a plastic bag filled with boxes shrink wrapped in thicker plastic. He handed one to Ion Storm. For a moment Ion Storm was marveling at it. He glanced at Thundercracker. “And it really works?”

Thundercracker nodded. Ion Storm looked back to Wheeljack. “How much?”

Wheeljack shook his head. “On the house. Long as you promise to come back.”

Ion Storm nodded. He took a deep vent. “How many do I need?”

“It lasts for a year. So you only gotta renew it once a year. If it breaks, if it fails, it’s on me. I pay for any medical services needed as a result.”

Ion Storms eyes widened even more. “You’re kidding,” he said. He shook his head. “That’s not real.”

“Ask anyone.”

“Have you ever had to do it?”

“No. Because it ain’t ever failed.”

Ion Storm shook his head. “Sounds fake.”

“Well, it ain’t. Gonna take it or not?”

Ion Storm pulled it close to his chest. “I’m taking it,” he took a second, his eyes darting around the table. He put down a few coins and grabbed a brain teaser. “And one of these.”

Wheeljack slid himself the coins and made change. Thundercracker and Ion Storm went on their way. The rest of the regulars came and went. A few new faces stopped by the table and bought themselves something to do. Or something to use. Wheeljack worked until past dark. As he hauled his sorry self down the street he passed Acid Storm in an ally smoking a cigarette. She was hiding, he could tell. Cooling down.

“Ey,” Wheeljack said, “What’s up?”

“Move it, buddy,” Acid Storm growled, not even looking at Jackie. “I’m not for sale.”

“Storm.”

Acid Storm seemed to suddenly recognize the voice. She looked. Her gaze settled on Wheeljack for a moment. She took a long drag and let it out slow, bouncing her heel against the building.

“What do you want?”

“Yer hidin’. You need somethin’?”

“Not from you.”

“What happened?”

“Frag off, Jackie. I’m mad.”

“What happened.”

Acid Storm huffed. “I was robbed, okay? Some prick. Whatever. I’m not gonna make any more tonight.”

“How much he take?”

Acid Storm shook her head. “No hand outs, Jackie. You know the deal. Only goods and services.”

Wheeljack contemplated for a second. “Sell time anymore?”

Acid Storm scoffed. “Goods and services. But you're a friend. So you already get both.”

“Well not both.”

“You don’t wanna frag me, Jackie. I know you don’t. I don’t need a pity frag.”

“I don’t need you goin’ home with nothin’. I know how Slipstream gets.”

“Hey, shut up about it, alright? You don’t know anything.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Wheeljack’s pedes scuffed the ground as if to move, but he couldn’t get himself to go anywhere. For a long moment he just stared at Acid Storm. She hated pity. And she hated handouts. And she hated getting fragged. Yet here she was.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she asked.

“Not immediately.”

 

* * *

 

Wheeljack wasn’t really paying attention, but Acid Storm seemed to be having a good time.

“You know, you’re so lame, Jackie,” Acid Storm said between thrusts. “You don’t even- huh- make any noise.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “I’m indifferent.”

Acid Storm hilted herself in Wheeljack’s valve and stayed there as she emptied her load. She sighed, bowing forward. “You come?” she panted.

Wheeljack shrugged. “No. But you know me.”

“You deserve better than my lousy spike, Jackie. You deserve a good time.”

“I had a good time,” Wheeljack sat up. “I think I finally figured out what I been doin’ wrong with this latest project.”

Acid Storm sat back on her knees. She shook her head. “You shouldn’t be living in that dump, Wheeljack. When are you gonna give that up?”

Wheeljack climbed off the bed. “Probably not until I die,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. He rubbed his sore valve for a second before closing up. It wasn’t often he interfaced, either with valve or spike. Even with preparation he tended to get sore after a good frag.

Acid Storm smirked. “You gonna make it home okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Gonna drive most of the way anyways.”

Wheeljack un-subspaced his cash. “How much you make tonight?”

“I’m charging you a hundred. High as I’ll go.”

“Tough.”

Wheeljack put four on the nightstand and left before Acid Storm could protests. He rushed down the steps and out into the street where he leaped onto the street and headed in the direction of home.

He decided not to try and walk the two miles, he could risk his wheels for a day. Usually tomorrow was his day off, but since he gave the money to Acid Storm he’d have to work to make up for it. As soon as he got home he hopped in the shower and scrubbed the grime of the city off his frame. He massaged his sore valve under the lukewarm stream. Acid Storm really did a number on him.

Wheeljack sighed as he stepped out of the shower. He didn’t bother drying off, water dried eventually. He sat himself back down at his desk and got back to work on the same project as earlier. When he couldn’t think anymore he took inventory on his product. He shoved aside a panel in the wall and counted out the Anti-Virus. He only had six bags left. Six bags of six, thirty six. Probably enough for a week but it’ll be close.

Wheeljack checked his funds. He’d have to order more. He hoped he could make it to the end of the week. Wheeljack could name at least two bots who were due for a replacement. He’d set aside one for each of them, and more if anyone came to mind.

When inventory was done Wheeljack shuffled to the berth and laid himself down. He settled into the old creaky berth and tried to fall asleep.

Despite how tired his mind was he kept thinking. He stared at his desk, fantasizing about waking up and solving that problem.


	2. Street to Street to Street

Wheeljack was more sore than usual. There had been a series of robberies on his corner, leading him to buy services from Thundercracker and Sunstorm. After a week Wheeljack didn't want to do it anymore. And he was running out of money. Everything he made had been going to them to make up for the robberies.

So Wheeljack decided to try and fix the problem. At least to the best of his ability, the only way he knew how. It took another week but the project wasn't huge, and the product wasn't complicated. He sent the prototype and prints to his guy. Two days later he had a box. Wheeljack opened it up and took out the product to inspect it.

It came in three colors. Gold, silver, and bronze. Wheeljack tested one on himself and worked out a price before bringing them into the market. He would sell them for thirty each. The tech wasn't too expensive. They cost about ten to make, plus five for shipping. So the prophet wasn't huge but it wasn't nothing. Plus, with these on the table he wouldn't have to spend anymore on services, thank Primus.

As soon as Acid Storm arrived for her usual he placed it on the table in front of her. She furrowed her brow and picked it up to get a better look.

“What is it?” She asked.

“It's a money clip.”

She scoffed. “Why are you showing it to me?”

“Because it's a money clip that will electrocute anyone who isn't you.”

Wheeljack placed his own on the table, void of cash. He nodded to it. “Go on, try it.”

Acid Storm looked skeptical, but she tried to grab the clip. Before her fingers could even make full contact it hit her with a burst of electricity. She snapped back and shook off her hand.

“Strong stuff,” she said, face still contorted in a cringe. “How much?”

“Thirty.”

“And if it breaks? If I lose all my cash?”

Wheeljack leaned back. “Come on, Storm, you know all my products come with the Wheeljack guarantee.”

Acid Storm looked down her nose at him. “And what if I make two thousand in a night, huh? You're gonna pay me then?”

“I never leave myself in dept for long.”

Acid Storm scoffed. “Sure, but even you couldn't afford that.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Agree to disagree,” he sat forward. “So what's the deal? You takin’ it or not?”

Acid Storm turned it around and around in her hands again. She put the money on the table.

“You better hope it works.” She said.

“I guarantee it,” Wheeljack said, counting out the money before sticking it with the rest.

Acid Storm went on her way. Wheeljack leaned back in his seat and waited. He got a few more clients. Everyone he had helped out earlier he told about the money clip. In exchange they all told their friends. And they all told their friends. Until Wheeljack was down to his last two.

One of the regulars Wheeljack had anticipated bought himself a pack of gum, some cigarettes, and a new Anti-Virus. The other regular Wheeljack had been anticipating just bought protection.

Wheeljack lifted his brow at the bot, “anything else?” He asked, slowly placing the box down.

Sunstorm shook his head. “I can't afford it, Jackie,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Wheeljack leaned back. He reached into his bag but Sunstorm spoke up.

“No hand outs,” he said. “You know the rule.”

“I know I know the rule. So how's about this. How's about you slip me, what? Ten? That sound good? And we can call it even.”

Sunstorm shook his head. “That's not enough.”

“Then pay in intervals.”

“No, you know I can't do that.”

Wheeljack sighed. He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Alright,” he muttered. He let his hand fall to his lap and looked at Sunstorm.

“How much is a kiss on the mouth?”

“Seventy-five,” Sunstorm said.

“Okay. Skip the ten. Come 'er.”

Sunstorm shook his head. “I'm not gonna make you do that Jackie.”

Wheeljack shook his head. “Come 'er. I know you like kissing, even if it's my ugly mug.”

“You’re not ugly. And I know you hate taking off your mask.”

“I'll live.”

Sunstorm bit his lip. Before long he was stepping around the table. Wheeljack slipped off his mask, revealing the scarred lips, curled and deformed by something Wheeljack never talked about. Sunstorm dove right in. He attacked the mouth and nipped at Wheeljack's lip, making sure to put everything he could into that kiss. Wheeljack reciprocate in kind.

After about a minute Sunstorm pulled away. Wheeljack immediately slipped his mask back in place.

“Damn, Jackie,” Sunstorm said, wiping away the small bit of saliva from beneath his lip. “You need to buy a kiss more often.”

Wheeljack just shook his head. He handed over the Anti-Virus and fifteen shanix.

“Not really my style,” he said, shrugging back into his seat. “Glad you liked it though.”

Sunstorm frowned. “You know, you've really gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Taking stuff you don't want. Buying a frag when you know you won't like it.”

Wheeljack shrugged. He reached across the table and stared straightening things out. “I don't dislike it,” he said. “I just don't care. Indifferent. You know that. Now go on,” he flicked his hand. “Go- do your thing before Storm bites your head off.”

Sunstorm's shoulder fell. He put his hand on Wheeljack's cheek and turned his head so they were facing each other. Sunstorm bent down and planted a soft kiss in the middle of Wheeljack's mask. Sunstorm shook his head.

“You deserve better than this, Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack took the hand on his cheek and pet the back of it. “So do all'a you,” he said. “But Primus ain't never been so kind to bots like us.”

“He'll be kind to you, Jackie. I pray for you, ya know. I ask for you a lot.”

Wheeljack's smile was soft in his eyes. “I appreciate it,” he muttered. He let go of Sunstorm's hand and sent him on his way again.

Wheeljack settled back into his seat and watched Sunstorm go. He took a deep vent and turned back to his table.

A medium sized bot, possibly about as big as Wheeljack, stopped at the table and contemplated for a moment. He looked at everything but didn't touch. He was a square guy, ugly green/yellow paint job and purple optics.

“Do you have anymore than this?” He asked.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Wheeljack asked, leaning forward and balancing his weight on his knees.

The bot hummed. “Something special. Something for the Conjux and I, if you catch my drift.”

Wheeljack nodded. “Well. I think you're gonna have to be more specific than that. I got some fine reading material,” he gestured the books. “Some stuff to boggle the mind,” he pointed to the brain teasers. “What floats his boat?”

The stranger pursed his lip. He hummed again. “Well, see. The conjux and I are- reaching out. I was looking for something that would keep him safe when we converged in one berth.”

Wheeljack tapped his chin, pretending to think.

“Well, buddy, guess yer gonna have to use protection won't ya?”

The stranger nodded. “Oh, yes, yes, of course. Haha, don't like to beat around the bush do you?”

“No.”

“No. See, I'm looking for a little something- hmm- safer,” he smiled a sickly smile. “Condoms are so cumbersome, ya know?”

“No,” Wheeljack shook his head as he sat back. “I'm afraid I don't got what yer looking for, pal. Sounds like what you're playing with is more than I can suit. Maybe go to a store, eh? They might carry what you need.”

The strangers fingers twiddled together beside his cheek, the smile struggling on his face.

“Alright,” he said. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

The stranger went on his way. Wheeljack watched him go. A few seconds later he watched Acid Storm walk over to him.

“Was he giving you trouble?” She asked, keeping her voice low.

“I think was trying to. Tried to get an Anti-Virus, I think.”

“Hm,” Acid Storm glanced over her shoulder. “I've never seen him around.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Acid Storm stood a little closer. She cocked a hip so it was against Wheeljack's arm, and ran a slender finger over the opposite shoulder.

“I'll ask around,” she said, watching the people pass out of the corner of her eye.

“Looked polished,” Wheeljack said. “Smelled nice too,” Wheeljack leaned over slightly to see if he was completely gone. He leaned back in his seat and looked up at Acid Storm.

“Something tells me he ain't from around here.”

Acid Storm hummed. She removed her arms from around Wheeljack and walked back to her spot.

As Wheeljack was packing up he noticed the seekers sticking around. Most of the time they broke off at the end of the night. Either they ended their shift or moved around to other corners. Acid Storm, Sunstorm, and Thundercracker lingered.

Wheeljack walked past them slowly. He locked eyes with Acid Storm and stopped in his tracks.

“Jackie.”

“Storm.”

“Come up for a drink?”

Wheeljack glanced to his left. Then back to them.

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

They sat in a circle. Wheeljack didn't know where the chairs came from. They were all in a corner. Acid Storm twirled her drink in her glass and stared at Wheeljack.

Wheeljack stared back. His cube balanced precariously on his fingers, thumb clutching the rim. It remained otherwise untouched.

A talon tapped steadily on the edge of Thundercrackers glass. He looked anywhere but at Wheeljack.

Sunstorm hid behind his cup. He clenched a fist under his arm and keep the glass up by his lips, right over his nose.

“Why do you work that corner, Jackie?” Acid Storm asked, finally breaking the near silence.

Wheeljack shrugged. “Where I always been workin.’”

“We were here first.”

“I know that.”

“Why’d you set up across from us?”

Another shrug. “I thought being ‘round you would help bring in business. People come looking for you. Find me along the way.”

Acid Storm cocked a brow. “So you used us?”

“Not directly.”

“Hm.”

Acid Storm glanced at the untouched drink in Wheeljack’s hand.

“You’re not drinking,” she said. “Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“Then why’d you accept the invitation.”

“Because I knew you wanted to talk to me. You ain’t one to beat around the bush, Storm. You gonna tell me what we’re all here for, or am I gonna have’ta guess?”

Acid Storm took a sip. She placed the cup on the small table beside her and interlocked her fingers as she leaned back. Her gaze was steely as it rested back on Wheeljack.

“We want to work for you,” she said.

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “Work for me? Whataya mean?”

Acid Storm leaned forward. “I mean we want to work for you. We’re tired of working under Slipstream. Her ridiculous rules. Stupid incentives. And terrible service. We want to work for you.”

Wheeljack’s finials flashed. “But I don’t- do you mean as in I would be your pimp or something?”

Acid Storm leaned back. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Wheeljack’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you nuts?” he said. “I ain’t a pimp. And even if I was, Slipsteam’s angry enough as it is with Elita movin’ in on her turf, how you think she’d feel if some nobody who sells knick knacks stole all her employees right out from under her?”

“Is that a no?”

“She’d tear my throat out.”

“Maybe.”

Wheeljack looked around at the others. “Why- why me?”

Sunstorm piped up before anyone else could speak. “Because you protect us,” he looked at Wheeljack. “And you actually care.”

“I build stuff to fix your problems so you buy stuff from me,” Wheeljack said, “to make money.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Thundercracker said, finally looking at Wheeljack. Thundercracker scowled. “We all know that’s not true. You were ready to give Sunstorm an Anti-Virus practically for free today. And you always buy a frag when we need one for the night even though you hate it. Don’t try to feed us that scrap, Jackie.”

“Listen,” Wheeljack said, trying not to sound as frustrated as he was. “I love you. You all know I love you. But at the end of the day, I’m a vendor. Not a pimp,” he shook his head. “I ain’t touching that business, alright?”

“It’s just like what you’re already doing,” Acid Storm said, keeping her voice even and emotionless. “Selling goods.”

Wheeljack scowled. “You ain’t goods. You’re people. I don’t sell people.”

Thundercracker pointed to him. “See? You do care.”

“I never said I didn’t. But it’s more like an unexpected side effect than something I planned on.”

Thundercracker huffed, flopping back into his seat.

“It would probably just be us,” Acid Storm said. “And Maybe Ion Storm and Skywarp.”

“So the seekers. Her best sell,” Wheeljack deadpanned. “Like I said. She’d rip out my throat. You think she’ll be able to rake in as much cash with just the coneheads and- whoever else she got under her?” Wheeljack sat back. “That be like if I stopped selling protection. Or porn. Or dildos.”

“She'll survive,” Acid Storm said. “She's been losing seekers left and right for years. She can stand a few more.”

“The rest.”

“She'll find new ones.”

Acid Storm reclaimed her drink and took a sip.

“Listen, you don't have to make the decision right now. But at least consider it, alright? And get back to us.”

“I can't promise anything.”

“I know you can't.”

Acid Storm downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the table as she stood up. She took a few steps forward and placed her hands on her hips to look at Wheeljack.

“Before we kick you out,” she looked around at the other seekers. “Does anyone need anything?”

Sunstorms hands wrung in his lap. He avoided Acid Storms gaze.

“Sunstorm,” Acid Storm said.

Sunstorm shrugged. “Well. Not like I can afford it.”

Acid Storm scoffed. “You give too much money to Slipstream,” she muttered.

Sunstorm flinched. “We're supposed to give all our money to Slipstream.”

Acid Storm narrowed her eyes. “We're not talking about this. Do you need something?”

Wheeljack was already reaching into his bag, well aware of the one thing Sunstorm hadn't bought from him. Wheeljack pulled out a money clip and tossed it over. Acid Storm snatched it out of the air before it made it to Sunstorm.

“You know the deal,” Acid Storm said, wagging the clip. “No hand outs,” she gestured herself and the others. “Take your pick and make it quick,” she held the clip out. “Or take it back.”

Wheeljack's shoulder slumped. “You know I don't want that,” he muttered. “You break the rules all the time.”

“Not this one.”

Wheeljack huffed. He glanced between Sunstorm and Acid Storm. Wheeljack sighed. He reached a lazy hand out and flicked his fingers.

“Just give it back then. I'm not gettin’ fragged tonight, I'm sick of it.”

Acid Storms lip hardened into a hard line. She grasped the clip in her fist. She cocked a brow.

“How about a kiss?” She said.

Sunstorm perked. “I'll kiss him again.”

Wheeljack contemplated it for all of half a second. He shook his head. “No,” he muttered. “I just- I don't want anything,” he stood up. “Keep it, throw it away, use it. I don't care. I'm goin’ home.”

Wheeljack put his glass on the nightstand on his way out. Nobody tried to stop him. He hoped down the stairs and burst out into the alleyway. The weight of the air fell heavy on his shoulders. The city was cold.

Wheeljack stalked out of the alley. Yellow light lit his way home, traffic was light. He didn't feel like driving. He'd hop on his wheels in maybe a mile. As he turned the corner he found a hand on his chest.

“Wheeljack,”

Wheeljack recognized the slippery voice without even having to look up.

“Shops closed, buddy,” Wheeljack said, still looking at the hand. “Come back tomorrow.”

“I want to talk to you,” the Stranger said.

“Then talk.”

The stranger flicked a business card out of his wrist. Wheeljack watched as he stuck it in the top of his chest armor and pat it flat.

“My card,” the stranger said. “The name's Swindle. I'm a representative of one Tyrest. You've heard of him?”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. Tyrest was the most powerful person on the planet between Sentinel Prime and Overlord. Tyrest owned most of the ground they were standing on. And all but the house Wheeljack was currently living in.

Wheeljack scowled. “If yer here about my house you can forget it.”

Wheeljack tried to shove past, but Swindle grabbed him by the arm.

“Oh no no no,” Swindle said, urging Wheeljack back in front of him. “That's a matter for a different day. My client is interested in doing business with you.”

“Tell yer client he can forget it.”

“So quick? Oh, dear, Wheeljack, I urge you to reconsider.”

“Tough luck, pal.”

Wheeljack tried to walk past again. This time Swindle let him. Swindle walked beside Wheeljack and kept talking.

“Here,” Swindle said, un-subspaced a datapad. He handed it to Wheeljack.

“This is the contract you'd be signing of you wanna take a look,” he tapped the screen. “I think you'll find my clients terms and conditions very agreeable, my friend.”

Wheeljack absently sub-spaced the datapad. He didn't even look at Swindle, but the bot kept walking.

“He listen,” Swindle said, placing a hand on Wheeljack's shoulder.

Wheeljack threw him a seething glare. Swindle threw him a smirk. Wheeljack retracted his mask. Swindle removed his hand. His smile faltered only for a split second before contorting his face again.

“I, personally, have never seen the big guy hand out an offer like this. Which means you have what he wants. Not a lot of guys like you in the world, Jackie, not a lot of guys.”

Wheeljack put his mask back on. “Don't call me Jackie.”

“Heh. Only something friends do, right? Well listen, Wheeljack, I want to be your friend. Work with you. Help you move up in this world.”

Wheeljack scoffed, trying to walk ahead. “People don't “move up” in the world. Not this world, anyway. You got the wrong guy, pal. Now I suggest you vamoose before things get ugly.”

Swindle had to jog to catch up. “Just think about it,” he said. He moved his hand as if to give a parting pat, but seemed to think better of it. “We'll keep in touch.”

Swindle turned on a heel and started in the opposite direction. Wheeljack glanced over his shoulder and watched him go. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and plucked the business card out of his armour.

It had a name. A number. And a motto.

Wheeljack tucked the card away. He leaped into the street and rushed home, his wheels screeching on the road as he went.


	3. Contract to Contract to Contract

Wheeljack woke up sore. That came as no surprise, but frankly it was starting to get old. He hauled his sorry self from the berth and shuffled over to the shower. Today was supposed to be his day off. Hopefully when he counted out his funds and took inventory it would stay that way.

He took a shower, didn't bother to dry. Took a cube. Did some work. And put off checking whether or not he should go to work today. He scratched his head with his pen and tried to concentrate. Eventually he gave up, and did what he needed to do.

New stock had come in the morning before. But Wheeljack knew for sure he needed more money clips. Cigarettes we're running low. Protection. A new wave of magazines was supposed to arrive soon, exactly when, Wheeljack didn't know. Until then he was low and going to stay low.

Wheeljack sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. It wasn't bad. But it wasn't good. Wheeljack contemplated for a moment whether going out would be worth it. He could buy a few more boxes. Technically. After that it was debatable whether he'd have any money left for the week.

Wheeljack supposed he could dip into the savings. He twisted his lip and thought better of it. Savings was only for emergencies. And this was not an emergency.

Wheeljack sighed and decided it would be best he go out for the day. Sell what he could and buy tomorrow with the money he made. Now, Wheeljack's definition of “enough money,” was different than Acid Storms and the other seekers. Wheeljack didn't make as much money as them. But he certainly wasn't starving. Where the seekers made six hundred to two thousand a night, Wheeljack was raking in about seven to eight hundred. A fair amount. Except when he spent five between three seekers. That's when things started to get sticky.

Wheeljack gathered his stuff and headed out. When he arrived at his corner it was occupied by Ion Storm. He moved restlessly, walking back and forth from one end of the sidewalk tile to the other. As soon as Wheeljack arrived he walked off without saying a word.

Wheeljack didn't think much of it. He set up and sat back. Business would bring itself in.

Thundercracker stopped. So did Skywarp. Hadn't seen him in a while. The bruise on his face told Wheeljack not to ask. He slipped Skywarp a small box of rust sticks and left it at that.

Acid Storm, surprisingly, was last to the table. She took a position in front and leaned over, balancing on her hands. With one hand she ran a finger down Wheeljack's jaw as she spoke.

“We figured out who that guy was last night,” she said. “Some joker named Swindle. Works for you know who.”

“I know. He caught me last night after I left the hotel.”

“What did he want, baby?”

“Says Tyrest wants to do business with me.”

Acid Storm froze. Her hand moved to Wheeljack's shoulder, the facade quickly dropping. Her eyes grew wide as saucers.

“What did you say?” She asked, claws digging into Wheeljack's shoulder. He grabbed her wrist and kept it steady.

“I said he can forget about it.” Wheeljack said.

The grip on his shoulder eased, along with Acid Storms entire frame. She shook her head and kept her voice low. “You can't work for him, Jackie. You know what happens to bots who work for him.”

“We don't know what happens.”

“They never come back. That's enough for us. Bot like us, we don't mess around with him.”

“I know.”

“You know what they do, don't you?”

“Storm. I know. You don't gotta tell me.”

Acid Storm stood up straight. “Slipstream wants to see you.”

“About what?”

“She didn't say.”

Wheeljack grumbled. “Does she ever.”

“Nine sharp. Club. Don't be late.”

Acid Storm ran her hand along the table as she walked away. She kept an eye over her shoulder until about halfway down the street.

Wheeljack settled back into his chair. He could tell Acid Storm was playing it cool, like she always did. In reality she was probably screaming at herself for making their proposal in the hotel where she took all of her clients. Someone. Anyone. Could overhear and tell Slipstream about their little idea. And Slipstream would not be happy. Wheeljack wouldn't be surprised if that was what this meeting was about.

Wheeljack did fairly good business that day. Made up for almost everything he’d lost. Tomorrow was definitely a day off. Especially after the meeting with Slipstream. That was bound to take it all out of him.

Wheeljack packed up a little early. The club was a couple blocks away, and he didn’t want to be late. Slipstream wasn’t someone you wanted to keep waiting. Wheeljack drove to the club. The bouncers out front let him in. Wheeljack left his table outside but kept his pack tight in his cabin. Slipstream, despite all the money she made, still had sticky fingers. She was desperate to get a hand on one of Wheeljack’s Anti-Virus, just like everyone else.

Slipstream generally kept her clubs clean. Or at least, as clean as she could keep them with everything that went on within them. The music seemed muted, but it was still loud. Wheeljack kept his gaze away from the exposed bots, and those watching. The space was dim, and smelled of perfume and lubricant and something Wheeljack didn’t want to know what. He kept his gaze dead set on the back of the bot leading the way.

Red lights lit their path down the otherwise dark hallway, if one could call it that. The only thing separating them and the room was a railing. Wheeljack was lead to the end of the walkway and taken into a room. The guard opened the door and prompted him to enter. It was an office. Clean. Lit by the red light coming through the window just beside the desk. Wheeljack could see her, barely inside the light, the side of her face, a wing. She had her feet on the desk, twirling a drink in her hand. Two men beside her. Stiff and unmoving.

“Wheeljack,” Slipstream drawled. She handed her drink to one of the guards. “So. You’ve found yourself in my office yet again.”

“What do you want, Slipstream?”

Slipstream seemed to pause at that. Wheeljack could barely see her smirk within the shadow. Her eye was bright, it glinted where the smirk could not reach.

“So you’re getting bolder. Good. I was wondering when you were going to grow a backbone.”

“What. Do you want.”

Slipstream’s smile fell. She sneered. “It’s all business with you, isn’t it?” she sighed. “Fine. I’ve been told you have some very interesting people after you, Wheeljack. Care to shed some light on the subject?”

“No.”

A gun cocked.

“Care to change your answer?” Slipstream said.

“No.”

The guard behind Wheeljack marched forward. Probably not to shoot, but to grab. Wheeljack pressed the button on the little remote concealed in his palm. The guard went stiff. Then went down flat.

The two guards behind Slipstream came to attention, drawing their weapons. With one flick of a hand Slipstream wordlessly told them to stand down. She placed her elbow on the armrest and contemplated Wheeljack for a moment, gaze steady, expression unreadable. She cocked the brow Wheeljack could see.

“Another one of your toys I presume?” she said.

“What do you want, Slipstream?”

“Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“I’m trying to go home.”

Slipstream settled back into her seat. “And I’m trying to get you to tell me what’s going on. If we work together, Wheeljack, we’ll both get what we want. Sooner rather than later.”

Wheeljack’s stance eased. “I was offered a job by Tyrest. I’m not taking it.”

“Do you have the contract he proposed?”

Wheeljack un-subspaced the contract from the night before. He’d read it that morning out of boredom and an attempt to stall himself for going out for the day. Now he was beginning to think going out had been a bad idea.

Slipstream hummed as she looked over the contract. She made it through six of the ten pages before handing it back.

“Seems like a good deal,” she said. “Any reason you’re not taking it?”

“Besides the obvious?”

“You want to be a street vendor your whole life.”

“I’d rather live poor than work for Tyrest.”

“But you don’t live poor, do you? And you wouldn’t. Especially with that contract. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You want me to take the job.”

“I think it would benefit you. You’d be the only person in the world who went up the latter instead of down. I’m a rich person, Wheeljack, but I’ll never be one of them. They’ll never let me.”

Wheeljack looked at the datapad in his hand. Slipstream kept talking.

“You have the chance to be. I’ll never get out from under Tyrests thumb. But you will.”

“If I sign my life away.”

Slipstream barked a laugh. “What life? You sell crap on the side of the road and made friends with a bunch of whores,” she shook her head. “You don’t have anything to look forward to. And nothing to look back on. I know you want to do more with your inventions, Wheeljack. Here’s your chance.”

Wheeljack narrowed his eyes, attention back to Slipstream.

“Why are you trying to convince me to take this job?” he asked. “I thought you hated Tyrest.”

“Just as much as everyone else. But, Wheeljack, you have to understand. I hate you more.”

“You want me outta the picture.”

Slipstream took her feet off the desk. She inspected a bit of dust on it before intertwining her fingers and sitting forward.

“You seem to have caught the attention of some of my employees. The seekers, especially.”

“And?”

“And I don’t like that. It’s bad enough I have them being stolen away right and left. I don’t need them swooned by a sweet talking grounder with a kink for wings,” she cocked her head. “They seem to think you care about them.”

Wheeljack cringed. “Last thing I got is a kink,” he muttered.

“Yet you’re so fond of fucking my seekers.”

“You’re seekers are fond of fucking me. There’s a difference. Listen, I don’t have any interest in “stealing” anyone away. And I definitely don’t wanna be a pimp. If they leave you it’s your fault. Not mine.”

Slipstream scowled. “Are you saying I don’t treat my workers well?”

“I’m not saying anything. Are we done here?”

Slipstream watched him for another moment before her expression dropped. “Not quite,” she said. “I have a proposal for you, Wheeljack. Since you don’t seem to want to cooperate,” her eyes turned hard. “I want to offer you a job.”

Wheeljack flinched back. “A job?”

“I want you to work for me. As sort of -hmm- bot resources type of person. Or, a hospitality bot.”

“Get to the point.”

“I want you to keep my employees happy. Talk to them when they need an ear, you’ve got plenty. Give them the nice, sweet, interface they deserve after a hard day.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

“I’m not doing any of that.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s manipulative. And I don’t want anything to do with your business.”

“Really? You do seem fond of loving up my seekers already, the only difference is you wouldn’t have to pay for it now. This is most people’s dream, Wheeljack. Anyone else would love to have a pile of eager seekers all over them.”

“That’s fine. I don’t. Are we done?”

Slipstream frowned, her brow dipping with her lip. She leaned back and crossed her legs. She shook her head.

“You’re either a liar or a freak. Maybe you should get that checked out,” she smirked.

Wheeljack stiffened in his seat. It took all the willpower he had not to say something that would get him killed. Instead he forced out through gritted dentia. “Can I go now?”

Slipstreak flicked her wrist. “My guards will see you out.”

Wheeljack stood. One of the guards took him to the office door.

“And Wheeljack,” Slipstream said. “Rest assured. Tyrest isn’t going to make turning down his offer very easy on you. And neither am I. Who are you more afraid of?”

One of the two guards beside Slipstream escorted Wheeljack back to the door. They shoved him out and slammed it behind him. Wheeljack stumbled before regaining his balance. He collected his table and took off for home. The streets were quite this late at night.

When Wheeljack returned home he deposited himself on the berth, falling in face first. When he found he couldn’t sleep with Slipstreams final words running endlessly in his head, he sat up.

“Who are you more afraid of?”

Wheeljack sat at his table. He sipped at a cube, and un-subspaced the contract. He read it again.

It was a two year contract. It promised that Wheeljack would own himself. It promised he could keep his house. His inventions would be patented under his name. He would be given a house on the Tyrest estate to live in. His home would be temporarily transported beside it. He would get seventy five percent of the revenue from the sale. And he would control the pricing.

People didn’t get contracts like this. Nobody owned themselves. Wheeljack would have the chance to own himself for two whole years.

Then after that, what?

Wheeljack didn’t want to know. He read the contract probably four times, looking for all the ins and outs and loopholes he could take advantage of should he decide to sign it. He found nothing. At least not anything that stood out.

After about the fifth read through Wheeljack put it back and went to bed.

* * *

 

Wheeljack took the day off like he told himself he would. It felt good, working for the whole day. Sleeping when he wanted, when he could at least. Building new things. Ordering inventory. It felt good. It was the first time Wheeljack felt pretty good in a long time.

But of course. Nothing nice ever lasted for very long in his life.

Jet engines. Familiar jet engines, went over his house and landed at the door. Wheeljack slipped from his desk stool and opened the door to see what was going on. He found Ion Storm stumbling to the door. He tripped over the small step for the porch, Wheeljack caught him by the arms.

“Wheeljack,” he vented. “Acid Storm, we need your help, we can’t” he could barely speak.

“Whoa, Whoa, slow down. What’s going on?”

Ion Storm grabbed Wheeljack by the shoulders. He was shaking. “Acid Storm’s been arrested.”

Wheeljack stiffened. “She what-”

“Slipstream won’t let us post bail. She won’t let us do anything. We didn’t know what else to do.”

“What was she arrested for?” Wheeljack ushered Ion Storm into the house. “Come on, come inside. You’re shaking.”

Wheeljack sat him down on the chair and made up a cube. He took a knee before Ion Storm and waited for him to speak.

“They’re going to sell her,” he said. He took Wheeljack by the shoulders again. “They’re going to sell her to Tyrest, or Overlord, or- or-”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Wheeljack cooed. “It ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’ll take care’a this. What was she arrested for?”

“Selling herself.”

“What’s the bail?”

“It’s-” Ion Storm bit his lip. “It’s two thousand. Even all together we don’t have enough- Wheeljack-” he looked at Wheeljack. “You know what will happen if she goes to jail.”

Wheeljack let out a long sigh. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and tried to think. “Why wasn’t anyone else arrested?”

“I don’t know. They just took her. We were all there.”

“Why won’t Slipstream cover it?”

Ion Storm shook his head. “I have no idea. She just won’t. None of us know why.”

Wheeljack growled a sigh. He stood up and marched to the tile on the wall. He withdrew money from his safe and tucked it in his subspace. He turned back to Ion Storm.

“Where did they take her?”

* * *

 

Contracts were like birth certificate. But instead of simply applying citizenship and date of birth and frame type and such, they were the part of a person that another person could buy. The owner of whatever land one lived on partially owned all of the contracts of his citizens. People in prison, no matter how long they were in prison for, are owned by the prison. Lucky prisoners get through their entire sentence unscathed. Unlucky prisoners get their contracts bought out entirely by other people. Most of the time it’s Leaders looking for people to work in the estate or on the police force.

Paying bail was easy. But it wasn’t something most people wanted to do. It was simply buying back the part of the contract taken away for a misdemeanor. Paying bail meant you were taking responsibility for a person. Not only that, but buying a part of their existence. Slipstream already owned part of Acid Storms contract. Wheeljack didn’t want to own any. But there he was, handing two thousand shanix over and sighing a sheet taking partial ownership of Acid Storm.

Slipstream would not be happy when she found out.

Wheeljack signed and handed over the money. Seconds later a door opened beside a teller and Acid Storm was given to them, out of cuffs, and unharmed. The teller thanked them for their business, and closed them out.

Acid Storm didn’t seem in the mood to talk. Wheeljack tried, anyways.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Acid Storm just scowled. “What do you think?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

“Would you have rather been sold to Tyrest?”

“I said, shut up,” Acid Storm snapped. She turned and grabbed Wheeljack by the armour before shoving him back. “What do you know? You’ve never been bought, and sold, and bought and sold. You own me now, do you feel good about that?”

“No. I don’t,” Wheeljack scowled. He shoved the ownership paperwork in her chest. “I was gonna give this to you anyways. You don’t owe me anything,” he stomped away. “Have a nice life.”

Wheeljack hopped into the street and took off. When he was gone Ion Storm shoved Acid Storm.

“What was that!?” he asked. “Where do you get off treating Wheeljack like that?”

“He’s another person like everyone else.”

Ion Storm shoved her again. “You know that’s not true. He wanted to help you not own you.”

“Well who asked him, anyways?”

“We did. The Seekers did. I did.”

Acid Storm’s gaze snapped to the younger bot. “And who asked you?”

Ion Storm stepped back. He scowled. “You’re just a bitter old whore. And you can find your own way home.”

Ion Storm took off into the sky. Acid Storm was left alone on the street. She looked at the datapads in her hands. Her life had been handed back to her and she’d yelled at the person who’d done it.

* * *

 

Wheeljack transformed beside his usual spot. He sat down on the street and rubbed his head. Thundercracker looked at him from the corner. Eventually he walked over. Wheeljack ignored him and continued to sulk on his own.

“Slipstream wants to see you,” Thundercracker said.

“Tell her to shove it.”

Thundercracker flinched. “You know I can’t tell her that.”

“Well tell her I’m not coming.”

“Uhh-” Thundercracker was shoved aside by Slipstream herself.

“You unco-operative, bastard-”

Wheeljack sprung to his feet. “Who the hell do you think you are tellin’ them you won’t post bail?”

“Who do you think you are, doing it yourself!?”

Slipstream dismissed Thundercracker. Wheeljack immediately noticed the distinct lack of guards around Slipstream. She grabbed Wheeljack by the armour and dragged him into the alley. She slammed him against the wall and trapped him with a hand on either side of his head.

“This is all your fault, grounder.”  
“My fault? How the hell-”

She poked him in the chest. “It was Tyrests police that arrested her. They know where you plant your hoe, Jackie. They’re trying to smoke you out.”

Wheeljack slapped the hand off his chest. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Slipstream stepped back. Her expression was unreadable. She shook her head. “For a smart person you’re pretty stupid. If you don’t take that job they’ll keep taking my employees. And I won’t be paying for it,” she pointed to Wheeljack. “Don’t pretend you don’t care, Wheeljack. You’re not smart enough to trick yourself. Let alone anyone else,” she stepped forward again, shoulder hunched. “And know that if you ruin this for me, it’ll be your head.”

Slipstream stalked away. “Think, Jackie. Use your head. What do you fear most?”

Wheeljack watched her go. When she turned the corner Wheeljack lets his knees fall out from under him. He slid down the wall, and let his head fall limp against it.


	4. Seeker to Seeker to Seeker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter. I hope you all are liking this fic, I know it's one of my more out there concepts. 
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta Starscreamfan1 on tumblr

A thousand for Thundercracker. Seven-Hundred for Ion Storm. Wheeljack took out a loan from his friend. To give five hundred for Skywarp. The fourth week Wheeljack was finally free and out of debt.

That was until Acid Storm’s money clip broke. She only lost four hundred, fortunately. Then Thundercrackers malfunctioned. Wheeljack ended up owing two thousand. Ion Storm’s broke, but he didn’t tell Wheeljack. Not until Ion Storm couldn’t stand not having one and asked to buy a new one.

“What happened to the old one?” Wheeljack asked.

Ion Storm shrugged. “Nothing. I just- lost it.”

“Slag.”

Ion Storm huffed. “Fine. It broke, alright? I just want to buy a new one.”

“Did you lose any money?”

Ion Storm shrugged weakly, avoiding Wheeljack’s gaze. “I- maybe a little,” he muttered into his shoulder.

“How much?”

“Wheeljack-”

“A Wheeljack guarantee is a Wheeljack guarantee, Ion Storm.”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

Wheeljack paused. He sat up from where he was getting something out of his bag. “Whataya mean?”

Ion Storm looked around. He leaned partially over the table. Wheeljack could see now how much he was shaking. Ion Storm took a deep vent and forced himself to stop shaking. His gaze hardened, then softened on Wheeljack. Ion Storm ran a sharp claw gently over Wheeljack’s shoulder armor.

“Maybe we can do more talking tonight,” Ion Storm purred. “If you’re looking for a good time.”

Wheeljack glanced to his side, then played along.

“Hm. With you? Maybe on my off shift, ey? You gonna be around, babe?”

“You know I will.”

“Same place?”

“Hmm, let’s mix it up, a bit, huh?”

“Oh?”

“How about our own little hiding spot?”

Wheeljack’s facade dropped for a split second. “Really?”

Ion Storm nodded furiously.

“Oh,” Wheeljack had a hard time getting back into character. He managed a smirk. “I’ll be there,” he said. “Long as you will be, beautiful. Maybe you’ll give me a special little treat if I show up early?”

Wheeljack hated playing along.

Ion Storm smirked. “We’ll see.”

He slipped away.

Wheeljack dropped the facade and fell back into his seat. He wanted to spit out the sour taste in his mouth. But he didn’t want to show off the glower on his face, nor did he want to show Tyrest and his ever watching goons the scars on his mouth. Who knows, though. Maybe that would scare them away. Like it did Swindle.

Wheeljack doubted it. The police were much tougher than Tyrest’s little errand boy.

Wheeljack did pack up early, much to his disdain. He’d made a fair amount that day, but not nearly enough to make up for how much he’d lost in the last month. Slipstream refused to post bail for any of her employees, and Wheeljack couldn’t stand to see any of them in harm's way. Slipstream knew this. She was trying to smoke him out just as much as Tyrest was.

Wheeljack felt a weight settle in his stomach. He packed up and drove off to the Hiding Spot.

The Hiding Spot was like a sanctuary within the city. It was where all of the outcasts and prostitutes and street vendor's went when they were hiding from someone. It was a safe haven, one where Wheeljack had always been welcome, but rarely went. Prostitutes escaped their pimps, battered bots escaped their conjux, servants escaped their masters. Criminals escaped arrest. Everyone was welcome, except anyone who had power over another person. Slipstream had never set foot in the Hiding Spot, and as far as anyone was concerned she never would.

It was disguised as a club. Loud music played constantly. It was popular. A DJ, drugs, everything anyone needed to have a good time. The entrance to the Hiding Spot was just behind the stage. It was a good cover. The music hid any excess noise, while the crowd helped people who needed to get lost, get lost.

Wheeljack slipped in past the bouncer. The main room was dark, with only flashing lights, and peoples bio-lights leading the way to the stage. The DJ was one the mic, and spinning his disks. There was shouting and drinks spilling.

Wheeljack slipped past the partiers, every few seconds looking over his shoulder for the distinctive green biolights of Tyrests little spies.

When Wheeljack made it to the DJ he went right to the little screen beside the stage and put in a request for The Empyrean Suite. The DJ watched him and waited for the song to show up on his screen. Without missing a beat the DJ flicked a little switch on his set up. As soon as it was flipped he turned the music up and prompted everyone to turn up the party. The crowd shouted. Wheeljack slipped off to behind the stage. If one could call it that.

A curtain covered part of the back wall behind the stage. As soon as Wheeljack stepped behind it he found a set of stairs. When he made it to the last step the door closed behind him. The music was muted by the ceiling, but the room still shook.

Wheeljack found himself in a blank grey hallway. He moved forward. The path to the Hiding Spot was like a maze. There were always two directions one could go in. Choose wrong, and be ever trapped in an endless maze of tunnels and sewer systems.

Fortunately Wheeljack knew the way. It was about the thirty minute walk. Nobody ever risked driving down here, taking a wrong turn in a hurry always spelled bad news. Not to mention the traps. They were few and far between, but they were there, and much harder to avoid when on wheels.

Wheeljack arrived at the final door. He knocked once. Waited a second. Knocked again. Waited two seconds. Knocked three times in a row.

The eye slot slipped open. “Password,” a deep voice demanded.

“Ekips ym kcus nac tseryt.”

The metal slipped back into place. The door creaked and rattled as it was unlocked from the inside. It opened up and let Wheeljack inside, slamming behind him.

The space wasn’t clean. It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t well kept. It was a dim hole in the ground lined with berths, tables, and bots just looking for a safe place to sleep at night. Tyrest couldn’t touch them there. Enduring bad conditions was better than letting the police catch them, or even their own conjux.

The Hiding Spot was extensive. It was like an underground gorge. It used to be a filter system though a mountain, but it had been leveled and buried thousands of years ago by the city Tyrest built over it. It was a long, deep, tear in the ground, with tunnels surrounding the circular center where Wheeljack currently found himself. The only lights came from the side of the walls, but they were probably a thousand feet up. They did a well enough job lighting the entire place, but it was still all around pretty dim.

Wheeljack passed families. A carrier and their sparkling. Medics looking over bots who looked as though they’d been beaten within an inch of their life. There were vendors down there, past the berths. They sold everything they had for half price, and were more than willing to haggle. Down here, at least. On the street it would be a different story.

There was a medical center carved into the rocks. They did surgery there, and let patience stay when they couldn’t be exposed to the germs of the outside. It wasn’t perfect. But it was better than nothing.

Wheeljack wandered around the bend of the wall and found the seekers in their usual spot. They tended to hang around the scattered pile of berth pads settled under a few overhanging rock structures. It looked almost like fallen tree branches carved into the stone. Ion Storm perched upon one of the branches and was talking to Sunstorm who sat below on one of the berth pads. They were all there. Acid Storm, Skywarp, Thundercracker, every remaining seeker under Slipstream’s control.

They all perked as soon as Wheeljack came into view. Ion Storm leaped off his rock and raced over. He took Wheeljack by the arm and dragged him over without saying a word.

“Sit down,” Ion Storm urged, sitting down himself beside Sunstorm. Wheeljack did as he was told. It wasn’t long before the remaining seekers joined them in the pile of berth pads. They sat around so nobody could see Wheeljack.

“Show us your clip,” Acid Storm said. “You still have it right?”

Wheeljack un-subspaced his money clip. It was empty without him having to empty it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t know how useful it is to me now,” he muttered.

Ion Storm took out his own clip, now void of cash. “I think you’re wrong,” Ion Storm said, keeping his voice low. “I think someone is doing this on purpose.”

“How? It’s practically sabotage proof. How can you sabotage something you can’t even touch?”

“You do it through the bot,” Ion Storm said. He handed over his clip. “Look.”

Wheeljack looked at the clip, then back to Ion Storm, before actually taking it. Wheeljack was disappointed when it didn’t electrocute him. He turned it over in his hand, and inspected it, looking for anything that would indicate sabotage. It didn’t look as though the thing had been touched. He handed it back.

“I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t look like anything’s been done to it, right?”

“Yeah, looks same as the day you bought it.”

I think someone got an override code onto me, and I transferred it onto the clip.”

“What makes ya say that?”

“Because it’s not the only thing that malfunctioned. The lamp on the nightstand stopped working. So did the lock on the door. Everything I touched.”

Sunstorm piped up. “I had the same experience. So did Skywarp.”

Everyone looked at Acid Storm, who was scowling on her own. Eventually he sighed. “I did too. Everything I touched just shut down.”

Wheeljack looked around at the concerned faces. He shook his head. “How?” he asked. “How would they have gotten it on you? On your hands, I mean.”

“Lube,” said Thundercracker.

Wheeljack stiffened. “Why do you think that?”

Sunstorm looked around the group. “They all brought their own. We all used it,” he shrugged. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Thick enough to stay on our hands. And it gets everywhere.”

Wheeljack’s finials flashed. He dug into his bag. “You need new Anti-Viruses, all’a you. Right now,” he dug out the bag and just handed them over. “How long ago did it happen? have you all been checked out?”

Sunstorm rested a light hand on Wheeljack’s knee.

“We’re fine, Wheeljack,” he assured. “We’ve all been using protection since the money clip stopped working.”

“Protection breaks.”

Everyone took a new Anti-Virus and tucked it in their subspace.

“And anyone else,” Wheeljack said. “Take them, give them to people who need one.”

The group reluctantly agreed.

“We need to take care of this, Wheeljack,” Acid Storm said. “These people after you aren’t going to give up until you take the job. And if you don’t Slipstream will eventually rip your head off.”

“I know that. Ain’t my fault she’s a stubborn aft.”

“You’re right, it’s not. So what are we going to do? None of us want you to take either of these jobs, Jackie. None of us.”

Wheeljack shook his head. “I don’t want to either,” he rubbed his sore brow with a heavy hand. “But I don’t know what else to do. If this keeps up, who knows what they’ll do? To you. To me. I gotta-” he huffed. “I gotta take the job.”

There was a chorus of “No!” and “That’s stupid.” with a “That’s unfair,” thrown in.

Acid Storm scowled. “If you leave they’ll never let you come back.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Wheeljack snapped. “You think I want this? You think I want any of this? I can’t keep doin’ it. One’a you is gonna end up dead, or sold off, or-”

“Nobody asked you to protect us,” Acid Storm snapped back. “We’re not helpless protoforms. And you’re not our guardian.”

“No. You’re right. I’m your friend. And I got a right to want to protect my friends. If taking this job is what I gotta do to achieve that, then I will.”

Acid Storm huffed. “You’re being stupid,” she muttered.

“Storm-”

“You’re being stupid! Yout think this is the first bad thing that’s happened to us, Wheeljack? You think this is the first unfortunate chapter in our lives? We’ll get over it. It’ll pass. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“You know how they operate, Storm. They won’t stop. And crap like this is just going to keep happening. And it’s just gonna keep getting worse.”

Acid Storm sprung to her feet. “So you’re just going to leave!? That’s your solution!? Fine,” she flicked a hand. “Fine, Jackie, run right into danger, make yourself suffer like you always do, you stupid bastard. I don’t care.”

Acid Storm stomped away. Wheeljack stood up and called after her, but the other seekers urged him to let her cool off.

“Come on, Wheeljack,” Sunstorm said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Wheeljack slouched. He sighed. Sunstorm urged him back to the nest of berthpads and sat them back down.

“We understand if you take the job,” Sunstorm said.

“But lets not get ahead of ourselves,” Thundercracker said. “There’s still time to get around this. Maybe lay low for a while, alright? Stay in the Spot, they’ll take care of you.”

Wheeljack shook his head. “No. No, I don’t wanna take that risk. With any’a you, or my house. I gotta face this head on.”

Skywarp spoke for the first time that night. “No you don’t. Why do you think that? It’s stupid.”

Wheeljack frowned. “Thanks for the words of wisdom, Warp. But what else you want me to do? This isn’t your problem.”

Ion Storm moved a little closer. “They’re making it our problem.”

“This whole mess would end for you all if I took this job,” Wheeljack shrugged. “It’s only two years. And it’s not like I can’t keep in contact.”

The air in the space seemed to sour. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their spots, averting Wheeljack’s gaze.

Wheeljack sighed. “Listen, I don’t like it, alright? And I know what everyone says, but I’m coming back, okay? Nothin’s gonna stop me from coming back to all you, alright? Nothin’.”

A few mouths opened and twitched, but closed, and thought better of it. After a few exchanged glances everyone crawled forward.

“Oh no-”

Wheeljack barely got a word out before he was buried under a pile of wings and limbs. A warm horde of seekers snuggled up to him. Wheeljack sighed, trapped on all sides.

“I’m not dying, you guys.” he said.

Thundercracker shushed him. “Trying to sleep.”

Wheeljack sighed and gave into the pile. It was warm and safe there, and Wheeljack hadn’t slept in four days. Among the seekers it was easy to fall asleep. Even with everything still weighing on Wheeljack’s mind.


	5. Estate to Estate to Estate

Wheeljack, for the next five days, stuck with the seekers for the most part. They followed him home and invited him into their homes. They couldn’t give much, but they were unwilling to let go. Wheeljack didn’t want to either. He knew that as soon as he signed the contract he would he whisked away, so he was determined to spend as much time with everyone as possible.

Acid Storm still wouldn’t speak to him. Nobody tried to convince her to.

Knowing that soon he would be out of debt, and making money, Wheeljack bought everyone dinner on the fourth day. Acid Storm didn’t come. But they had a pretty good time. When they parted Wheeljack said goodbye.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Sunstorm asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wheeljack said. “Of course. I wouldn’t leave without you all seein’ me off.”

Sunstorm’s smile was weak. He placed his hand on Wheeljack’s cheek and parted with a longing look. Wheeljack couldn’t get himself to smile.

As soon as everyone was gone Wheeljack turned and hopped on his wheels. He drove around for a while, thinking to himself, worrying, contemplating. He just drove, out of the city, into the city, around the buildings. He drove past his spot about a dozen times, and the place he bought his groceries. The hole in the wall where he got his drinks. The warehouse where they made his product. A friends house.

Wheeljack stopped. He skidded and flipped onto his feet in front of the alleyway. He looked down the dimly lit crack between the buildings. His eyes were drawn by the red light hanging over a door. A shadow stood beneath it.

Wheeljack walked to the door. The shadow stepped aside and let him in. Wheeljack indulged himself. He took a drink at the bar. He watched people dance and abandoned the thoughts in his head. A bot came to him with swaying hips and nimble fingers and asked if he wanted a dance. Wheeljack stuck a fifty into the strap around his leg and said no thanks.

Wheeljack wasn’t there to watch anyone dance. He wasn’t even there to drink, or clear his head. He was there to build up the courage to talk to the most intimidating person he knew.

Acid Storm.

She lived in one of the suites in the second floor of the building. After learning Wheeljack was leaving Slipstream let up on her guards and eyes and decided as a last hara Wheeljack would be allowed to use her services however he wanted at half price. Wheeljack had used this discount to buy the seekers time. And not anything else.

Wheeljack put his drink down on a passing tray of empties and stood up to do what he’d come there to do. He went to the door into the building and jogged up the stairs. At the top there was a poorly lit hallway lined with five doors. Two on each side, one at the end. The music from the club could still be heard from the top of the stairs. As Wheeljack got closer to the door at the end of the hallway it got quieter and quieter until it was nothing but a muted hum in the background.

Wheeljack raised his knuckle to the door. He put it down. Raised it again. And put it down. He stood uncomfortably on his feet, shifting from pede to pede. A deep vent. A small vent. Wheeljack lifted his knuckles again. And lowered them again. He huffed, annoyed with himself.

“Oh for Primus sake, come in,” Acid Storm called from inside.

Wheeljack quickly did as he was told. Acid Storm was sitting at the vanity against the far wall wiping off her face.

“What do you want?” she spat.

Wheeljack carefully closed the door behind him and stayed close to it.

“I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Good riddance,” Acid Storm sneered.

“I didn’t think you’d come with them all tomorrow.”

“I definitely wasn’t planning on it.”

Wheeljack sighed. He took a step away from the door. “Storm- I don’t wanna leave things like this with you.”

Acid Storm disposed of her face wipes. “That’s too bad for you then, isn’t it?”

“Storm-” Wheeljack huffed. He stepped fully into the room. “It’s not like I’m gonna be dead-”

Acid Storm whipped around in her chair. “You may as well be,” she growled. She stood and walked briskly to Wheeljack, wings high, frame ridgied. “You know the kind of shit they pull Wheeljack and you’re still doing it. Doing this. To yourself. To them. To- to-”

“To you.”

“To me, Wheeljack! How could you do this to us? Who do you think you are?”

“Storm you know why I have’ta do it.”

Acid Storm threw her arms in the air with a huff as she turned away. She shook her head. “You’re still not getting it,” she shuffled to the bed and sat down at the end of it, still shaking her head.

Wheeljack took a few steps towards her. “Then talk to me,” he said. “Tell me what you need me to hear.”

Acid Storm chucked a pillow at him. “You can’t just leave us, Jackie,” there was a quiver in her voice. She came forward and stood in front of Wheeljack. From this close Wheeljack could see how easily a stiff breeze would blow her over.

“We’re family, you idiot. And you’re abandoning us.”

Wheeljack tossed the pillow aside. “I’m doin’ this to keep you all safe. Can’t you see that?”

“No. I can’t Wheeljack. I can’t see it. I’m blind to unimaginably bad and idiotic decisions. And to my friends putting themselves in danger. That’s what you’re doing.”

Acid Storm grabbed Wheeljack by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Did you stop and think for one second what you mean to us?”

Wheeljack looked up at her, “did you ever consider what you mean to me?”

Acid Storm let go. She scowled, but her eyes betrayed it.

“I love you,” Wheeljack said. “I love them. And I can’t keep puttin’ any’a you in harms way because some mad bozo wants me to work for him, alright? I’m taking the job whether you like it or not. And believe me, I want this as much as you do. If I don’t come back, you really wanna let me leave with this between us?”

Acid Storms scowl deepened into a sneer. After a split second Wheeljack found himself in Acid Storm’s tight embrace.

“I swear to god, if you don’t come back I’ll kill you,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“I believe that,” Wheeljack wheezed. “You’re doin’ a good job.”

Acid Storm let go but kept her hands on him. After a soft sigh she removed herself and turned back to the vanity.

“You want a cygar?” she asked, pulling out a drawer.

“Is it one of mine?”

Acid Storm scoffed, taking two out of the box. “No. Slipstream got them for me.”

Wheeljack accepted the cygar. They laid on the bed between two open windows and smoked, slowly, taking short puffs and talking in between.

“You know it’s gonna be a totally different world over there,” Acid Storm muttered, then took a drag. She blew the smoke out slow, letting it cloud beneath her lip. She looked at Wheeljack. “They’re definition of handsome might not be the same as ours,” she teased, hardly retaining the smirk.

Wheeljack rubbed his chin, his finger just brushing one of the scars on his lip. He looked at Acid Storm and shrugged. “Good thing I was never handsome then.”

Acid Storm let herself smile. She rolled her eyes. “They think they’re sexy, ya know,” she pointed with her cygar. “The scars. Sunstorm especially. You know he’s smittin with you, don’t you?”

“I thought he just liked my kissing.”

“He likes everything about you.”

Acid Storm twisted the cygar between the tips of her fingers. Her gaze was distant, probably someplace better than here. She sighed, then took a drag.

“We’re gonna miss you, ya know.”

Wheeljack put the cygar to his mouth but took it away before taking a puff. “Ya know, if ya want,” he shrugged. “Which you probably don’t want. But if you wanted to you could come visit me.”

Acid Storm scoffed. “You’re delusional if you think any of us would do that.”

“Well, I didn’t think any’a you would. So I’m not delusional.”

Acid Storm shook her head. “They’re gonna steal you away from us, Jackie. For good. I just know it.”

“You don’t know it,” Wheeljack sat up slightly to get a better look at Acid Storm.

“Listen,” Wheeljack said. “If I gotta fight tooth and nail, do somethin’ illegal, hell, kill a man. I’ll do it to get back to you. Even if it takes a few dozen lifetimes, I’m gonna make it back to you, don’t think I won’t.”

Acid Storm took the cygar in her mouth and sucked on it until smoke came out her nose. Eventually she let it go. The smoke spilled out as she spoke, not looking at Wheeljack.

“I bet you really believe that,” she muttered. She shook her head. “You’ll be gone for two years. Two whole years. You don’t even know who you’d be coming back to,” she looked at him. “And we don’t know who we’ll be getting back.”

Wheeljack laid back down on his side, the cygar dangling precariously between his fingers. “You really think I could change that much?” he muttered.

Acid Storm shrugged. “Depends. How much money you think you gonna make? And what do you think you’ll have to do to make it?”

Wheeljack shrugged, staring at the berth cover. “Well, I dunno,” he muttered. “Just says they want me to invent stuff for him. Something specific they ain’t tellin me ‘bout till I get there,” he stuck the cygar in his mouth and turned over so he was on his back. Another shrug. “Could be simple as a new air filtration system-”

“Or as complex as a weapon that can take out the entire city and then some.”

Wheeljack took the cygar out of his mouth. “I doubt that. Ey, you think everyone’s comin’ home tonight?”

“Don’t know. I would think so. Why? Enjoying the attention?”

Wheeljack smiled to himself. “Yeah, a little,” he admitted.

“Well, don’t get used to it.”

Wheeljack’s smile fell. “Yeah,” he muttered. “But I don’t wanna think about that.”

Acid Storm scooted a little bit closer so they were arm to arm. “Then don’t,” she said. She leaned her head on his shoulder, “but only for tonight.”

Acid Storm put out her cygar and settled in. Wheeljack did the same. Despite it all, they fell asleep.

* * *

Wheeljack's eyes fluttered open. It was dark, he was warm, and his legs ached. It was a different ache, though, not like the one he usually woke up with. It was more like a weight, or the feeling that comes when a person sits on their knees for too long.

Something flicked. Someone was snoring. Someone's wing was twitching.

Sunstorm was the one snoring. Acid Storm was a restless sleeper, she usually had to shove the others out of her limited personal space. Thundercracker was lying comfortably on her chest, wings twitching.

There were claws on Wheeljack's arm. Ion Storm held him tight, face nestled into Wheeljack's shoulder. Someone laid over their legs. That was probably Skywarp. Wheeljack couldn't really see. Sunstorm was tangled diagonally across everyone.

This position would probably shift sometimes during the night. For now it was perfect.

Wheeljack managed to free his arm and wrap it around Ion Storm. Wheeljack took a deep vent and sighed. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Wheeljack was made to write the terms and guidelines of the production of his product in a separate file before signing the contract. Wheeljack did as he was instructed and signed the contract. Everyone was looking over his shoulder. As an act of generosity, and in the hopes that Wheeljack would never return, Slipstream let the seekers spend the morning with him.

Wheeljack’s pen hovered above the dotted line. Everyone leaned in. Sunstorm’s wings went high, he had to turn away and walk to the opposite corner. Thundercracker covered his face with his hands. “I can’t watch,” he grumbled, splitting his fingers open so he could see.

Acid Storm, who stood in front of them all, looked back and forth between her seekers and Wheeljack.

“Just sign it already,” she said.

Wheeljack twisted the pen in his hands. He took a deep vent. And signed the contract.

Everyone waited.

Wheeljack put down the pen.

“Well,” he said, voice loud in the silence. “They should be here soon.”

Almost as soon as he said that the distinct sound of a space bridge opening sounded right outside the door.

Someone knocked. Nobody answered.

Acid Storm scoffed. “It’s already done,” she said, storming to the door. “There’s no resisting now.”

Acid Storm whipped it open. Swindle stood on the other side, sticky smile on his face.

“I’ve come to collect,” he said.

Acid Storm and the rest of the seekers moved aside. Wheeljack stood from his chair and went to the door. His spark felt empty in his chest. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Would you like to bring the house with you, or do you have a bag?” Swindle asked.

“The house stays where it is,” Wheeljack said, handing over the contract and his terms sheet. “I got what I need.”

“Good. Moving a house is so cumbersome. You’re ready to go?”

Thundercracker handed Wheeljack his suitcase. Wheeljack put it down. “Almost.”

Wheeljack collected a hug from everyone, and a kiss on the cheek from a few. Last to step up was Acid Storm who wrapped her arms around him and held on like she was never going to let go.

“Remember our deal,” she muttered into his shoulder.

Wheeljack squeezed back. “I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll even visit,” they pulled apart but stayed together. “Take care’a the house, for me ey?”

Acid Storm nodded. Her hands flexed against Wheeljack’s armor until she forced herself to let go.

Wheeljack’s pedes didn’t want to move, but he made them. He took his suitcase and waved goodbye to everyone. Swindle lead Wheeljack through a new land bridge with a chorus of.

“Bye Wheeljack!” and “We love you!” following behind them.

It made Wheeljack's spark flutter back into his chest.

They emerged on the other side of the space bridge in front of a sky tram.

“Lord Tyrest doesn’t like space bridges directly to and from the estate. He has a personal trolly to get us to and from the bridge station,” Swindle explained.

The terminal was entirely empty. The sky above them was blue, and the whole thing was open air. It felt as though they were in the middle of nowhere. Wheeljack looked at the cement below his feet and found it smooth, taken care of, clean, and uncracked. Weird.

There were openings to the outside as if people were going in and out, but no sidewalks or road outside. No buildings. Just desert.

In the middle of the terminal, right behind the tram, was a water feature, similar to a fountain but didn’t seem to work like a fountain.

Swindle waited by the door of the tram and ushered Wheeljack inside. It, too, was empty. Padded white and orange seats lined the inside. It appeared to be automatic. Wheeljack took a seat and refrained from looking out the window. Swindle sat on the complete opposite side of the tram, as far away as he could get.

The weight in Wheeljack’s stomach returned. A numbness settled in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched it. It was silent besides the sky trams muted hum. A pressure built behind Wheeljack’s eyes. He retracted his mask for a moment and rubbed his sore face, trying to hold back from cringing. He took a deep vent and put his mask back in place.

The journey to the main estate was relatively short, about an hour or so. It felt like a blink, Wheeljack almost hoped it would last forever.

When they arrived at the estate the tram lowered so it was hovering just above the road.

Swindle moved so he was standing in front of Wheeljack.

“The estate is 589,000 acres, consisting of seventeen gardens and thirty two houses of various sizes. Tyrests castle is in the center of the estate and harbored the largest collection of spark roses in existence. Your house is in the far corner, we’ll get to that later.”

Wheeljack felt sick to his stomach. Swindle kept talking.

“There are two villages towards the east quarter and one in the south. You are free to drive on any of the roads in or outside of the estate. Know that if you choose to leave the estate you will be monitored by Tyrests guards, as per your contract. You are free to work from home, and enjoy any and all of the extra activities on the estate such as pools, golf, race tracks, hunting, and much much more. You will have a personal meeting with Tyrest three times a week at eight in the morning, he will be looking for a progress report. Tonight you will be dining alone with Lord Tyrest to discuss your first project.”

Swindle handed Wheeljack three datapads. “Here is your patents, selling licenses, deed to your factory, and your contract. Lord Tyrest has also provided a servant to use as you please, his contract is also included in those files.”

Wheeljack looked up at him. “Wait, what?”

“Your servant. A servant lives in your house with you,” Swindle shrugged as if it was nothing. “He’ll do anything you say. Most people use them for cooking, cleaning, and interface.”

Wheeljack wanted to throw up. He choked it down. He decided not to ask anymore questions.

Swindle said a few more things about the estate, Tyrest, and Wheeljack’s contract before they arrived at Wheeljack’s house. It was clean lines and smooth walls with a lot of glass and long hallways.

“The house is 10,000 square feet, with two floors, a garden, and a pool in the back. Five bedrooms, including a luxury suite. Three walk in closets, three full baths, and one luxury bath. Most of our employees, especially ones of your nature, like to throw parties. You will be paid $400,000 every other week for your services, as well as taking in the revenue from your street products. If it all works out the way Lord Tyrest anticipates it should be an extra $50,000 a week. The lab is in the basement.”

The house was clean, the floors and walls were covered in dark stained metal and wood. As soon as they walked in they were met with a living room area in the forefront, and small kitchen area in the far corner. It was an open floor plan, no walls between the living room, kitchen, or dining room.

The house was in the shape of a square missing one side. The pool was in the middle and could be seen from the front door through the large window that made up most of the back wall. A staircase came out of the floor and wrapped up to a balcony spread across the left wall. A hallway sprouted out of the same wall, leading to the rest of the house.

Swindle didn’t give him a tour. He handed over another datapad and told Wheeljack that he would be collected for dinner in a few hours. After dinner Wheeljack would get his servant, and from there he could do as he pleased.

“You may be a little stressed,” Swindle said. “Your servant should help you relax. They are excellent companions.”

Wheeljack didn’t say anything. Swindle left without another word.

Wheeljack felt numb. His vision wasn’t blurred, but he couldn’t focus. The datapads dropped out of his hand as he shuffled to the living area and sat down on the couch. His suitcase fell beside his legs and spilled open on the floor.

Wheeljack sat there for a long time. He sat until the sun was nearly down. When the world settled over his shoulders the pressure returned behind his eyes. Wheeljack retracted his mask. His face scrunched up and cringing. He didn’t scrub it away, he didn’t hold back. Instead he relented. His shoulders slumped and trembled, his frame tight. Wheeljack put his face in his hands. He hiccuped into a sob.

Wheeljack fell from the couch and bowed his head between his elbows, gripping his head so hard it hurt. All alone he wailed. The spark in his chest ached where it broke.


	6. Room to Room to Room

Tyrests mansion was- big. Big enough, probably, to fit half the city and then some. According to Swindle Tyrest lived with 132 servants, some of whom he considered his lovers. Swindle also said Tyrest would never admit that and it wasn’t public information, therefore should not leave the estate. Wheeljack didn’t respond. He didn’t care. Swindle shut up. 

From Wheeljack’s house to Tyrests home was an hour on the transport. Swindle dropped Wheeljack off at the door and wished him a greasy good luck. Wheeljack stepped off the transport and immediately looked up. No matter how far he leaned back he couldn’t take in the entire house. 

Despite its size, on a design level it was fairly simple. The whole building was in the shape of a square, harboring a large courtyard in the middle of it. The outside was plain. Five floors. It appeared as though every room had a window or two. Every window was lit with a light below the sill. 

“Master Wheeljack?” 

Wheeljack was taken out of his trance by a squeaky voice. A small bot stood in front of him, probably only about as tall as his chest if even that. 

“Uhh-” Wheeljack glanced around but didn’t move. 

“If you stride, we go inside,” the bot said, bowing slightly. 

“Uh. O-kay.”

Wheeljack followed the little bot through the front door and down the long hallways. The hallways were lined with windows, big and small. Tapestries hung on huge hooks between paintings and stain glass windows. The lighting was very dim, with a lamp or bulb only every three windows or so. Tyrest had a lot of paintings of himself. 

The small bot lead them to a set of large double doors and shoved them open. They walked into a large dining room complete with a table spanning from one end to the other. Wheeljack shuffled in slowly, trying to take it all in. Tyrest lived in the house alone with his servants who most certainly didn’t eat at that table. So what did he need all the chairs for? 

The small bot lead Wheeljack to the opposite end of the table and prompted him to sit down. 

“Master Wheeljack, Lord Tyrest should be right back,” the small bot bowed. “If you need something, really. Just call for me, Wheelie.”

“Uh- thank you. Wheelie.”

Wheelie smiled. He scurried off back in the direction they came in. Wheeljack watched him go. When he turned back to the room it was quiet. Wheeljack could have probably heard a pin drop on the other side of it if he was listening hard enough. 

Candles lit across the center of the table. Crowded green centerpieces stuck up between them. Wheeljack twiddled his fingers atop the table, waiting. He was tempted to move from his seat, explore the room, look around. Get a closer look at the paintings on the wall. But Wheeljack didn’t move. He forced himself to still and retreated back into his thoughts. So far the first night had been hard. He’d spend a large amount of his time drowning in his own sorrow. About an hour before he was to be collected he had done his best to collect himself for the evening. 

For a man who really liked rules, Tyrest sure was late. Wheeljack wasn’t one for formalities, but he would never wave the opportunity to accuse one of the Leaders of being rude. Wheeljack wouldn’t do it aloud, but the thought was comforting. 

The doors on the opposite side of the room opened with a loud creak. They were opened by two bots, one blue and white and blank faced, the other blue and white and equally blank faced. Tyrest, in his green frame, orange faced glory, came striding through the doorway baring his staff and his gaudy cape and crown. His nose was high in the air as he strode through the room. The two servants who opened the door followed behind him. They kept their heads down and walked in step with each other. 

Wheeljack didn’t want to stand, but he did. He bowed his head and didn’t speak. Tyrest stopped before the end seat and waited for one of his servants to pull the chair out for him. 

Wearing a mask for so long made Wheeljack sometimes forget to control his expressions. He was glad Tyrest couldn’t see the face he was currently making. It was something between a cringe and the face people made right before they threw up. 

“You may sit,” Tyrest said. 

Wheeljack had never actually heard Tyrest’s voice before. It took everything not to flinch. Wheeljack sat down. He watched the servants who stood on either side of Tyrest, just steps behind the chair. They stood stalk stiff, their heads low, expressions reserved. 

Wheeljack forced his attention back to Tyrest. 

“I’m sure your hungry after your journey,” Tyrest said. “I hope the lodging is to your liking.”

When he spoke it was with little emotion. His tone was flat, but booming. The only emotion Wheeljack could read was condescendence. Tyrest spoke as if everything he said was the most important thing in the world. 

Tyrest snapped to his servants. “Drinks,” he demanded. 

The one on the left scurried off through the door closest to their end of the table. 

“As I’m sure you’ve realized, Wheeljack, you have been gifted with a very unique contract,” Tyrest said, staring through Wheeljack’s soul with those steely yellow eyes. 

Wheeljack nodded. 

“You may speak,”

Wheeljack tried but his vocalizer stunted. He cleared his throat and tried again. 

“I’m aware, Lord Tyrest.”

“Then you should also be aware that I expect you to give me your best. And nothing less. As I will give you. I think I’ve been generous enough to warrant at least that.”

“Yeah- uh. Yes, Lord Tyrest. But can I ask, what it is you want me to do?”

“There will be a few projects, given to you overtime.”

The servant returned with the drinks. It was some bubbly drink, bright blue. Tyrest took his glass and took a small sip. He placed his glass down and looked at Wheeljack. 

“Would you like something else to drink?”

Wheeljack shook his head. “No. This is fine.”

“You haven’t drinken it yet.”

Wheeljack’s fingers thrummed atop the table. “I-” he considered lying. But lying to Tyrest was probably a bad idea to any effect. “I feel uncomfortable without my mask on. I prefer to keep it on around people.”

Tyrest nodded as if he understood. “I understand,” he said. “But I insist. I don’t like eating alone during these meetings.”

Wheeljack took a deep vent and pursed his lip. He wiped the scowl from his face before retracting his mask. He took a sip of the drink and put it back in place. The drink was sweet, to the point Wheeljack almost gagged. He choked it down and placed the glass back on the table. 

Tyrest took another sip of his drink and replaced it on the table. “You will be given a series of small projects during your time here. But I’m putting you in charge of my largest project to date.” 

Wheeljack intertwined his fingers to keep them from fiddling. 

“I trust you’re familiar with your contract?”

Wheeljack nodded. “I’ve read it several times.”

“Good. After the first couple projects I’ll assign you to the larger one.”

Tyrest snapped again. The bot on the opposite side scurried to the door. Wheeljack tried his best not to watch him go all the way there. 

“First we will deal with a few functions in the city. Small things. Sewer systems. Filtration system-”

Wheeljack had a short moment of ‘I told ya so,’ for Acid Storm. It immediately lowered his mood. 

Tyrest continued. 

“Simple fixes. I expect your full cooperation.”

Wheeljack nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good. Believe me, I expect a lot more from you, Wheeljack, than trivial things like simple fixes. I need you to make me something. I will go so far as to admit I’m desperate for a mind that can do it.”

Wheeljack took his lips between his teeth and chewed them. 

“Dinner should be arriving soon. We can discuss more after we eat.”

As if on cue four bots emerged from the side door. Two carried covered trays with them, the other two set down forks and knives and placed napkins on Tyrest and Wheeljack’s lap. It was two smaller bots, one blue, one black, both with face masks. And a taller bot that appeared to be a seeker. The frame was slightly different, though. He was a dusty yellow color, with the orange cockpit located in the belly instead of the chest. 

Wheeljack watched him move, wondering if he thought hard enough he could place the face. Tyrest drew his attention before Wheeljack could think for long. 

The white and blue bot and the seeker lifted the cover off the plates. The seeker gathered the other cover from the white and blue bot before he and the other two shorter bots scurried back to what Wheeljack now assumed was the kitchen. 

On the plate Wheeljack found gold nuggets and the tail of an alloygator. Soft and steaming hot. Tyrest picked up his fork and knife. 

“I hope the meal it to your liking.”

Wheeljack had never had solid food besides the occasional energon goodie. He had heard of the Leaders and their friends eating alloygator tails and gold nuggets. It wasn’t anything but stories, it seemed so far fetched. 

“I understand that most slum bots do not have the luxury of solid food. But I think you’ll come to enjoy it.”

Wheeljack took a deep vent. He cut off a small piece of the black tail and retracted his mask. He narrowed his eyes at it and drew his face away every time he tried to put it in his mouth. Eventually he lurched forward and took the bite off the fork. 

The meat was soft, savory, but almost sweet. It melted against the tongue in a symphony of beautiful flavors. Wheeljack shuttered his optics, it tasted so good. Better than he thought possible. Who knew there was more flavor to the world than plain energon and goodies. 

Wheeljack sliced off piece by piece. He resisted the urge to pick it up with his hands and shove it all into his mouth. Wheeljack did his best to keep the pace slow and steady. But everytime the savory meat touched his tongue it was like the allspark on cybertron. 

Tyrest ate at a steady space, not paying a lick of attention to Wheeljack. 

When Wheeljack noticed he was going to finish first at the rate he was going he slowed down. Wheeljack slowed down so his last bite was right behind Tyrests last bite. When he finished Tyrest wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin and placed it beside his plate on the table. He snapped. Servants rushed from the kitchen and cleared the table. 

Tyrest leaned forward slightly. “I think we should take this meeting somewhere more comfortable.”

Tyrest moved from his seat. “Come.”

Tyrest lead Wheeljack through the house. Wheeljack walked barely in stride with him while the two servants walked about five paces behind them. They arrived at a parlour complete with two couches facing each other, a piano, and a fireplace. Also more paintings of Tyrest. Because primus knows there were never enough of those. 

Tyrest snapped his fingers. The two servants rushed forward and took the cloak from around his shoulders. Once the cloak was taken care of one of them returned for the staff. 

“A drink,” Tyrest said to no one. 

Wheeljack was beginning to wonder if Tyrest knew how to do anything on his own. 

Tyrest took a seat. He prompted Wheeljack to do the same. They sat on opposite couches. 

Tyrest was handed a drink. He took a sip before speaking. “I want your full cooperation, Wheeljack,” he said. “So I expect the best from a man of your talents. You seem particularly good at solving problems. That’s why I picked you.”

Wheeljack was beginning to wonder. 

“As I’m sure you’re already aware, you will be given a servant upon your arrival back at your house. If he is not to your liking feel free to request a new one. Or, since you seem fond of your flocks, you are free to request more servants. You may also buy their contracts from me with your salary. I only request you clean up after yourself. If need be, I will take care of any- accidents.” 

Wheeljack’s fingers thrummed on his knees. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Tyrest to continue talking. 

“Would you like a drink?”

Wheeljack shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

Tyrest stared into his glass. “Your house is fully stocked with high grade. If you need more the estate will provide,” he placed the glass on his thigh and turned his attention to Wheeljack. “Your servant is required to follow you everywhere. He will bend to your whim and take care of all of your needs. His modual has been programmed to your suspected liking, however it can be adjusted.” 

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “Module?”

“The compliance module. It keeps them calm. Makes them better at doing their work. You understand.”

Compliance module was a fancy word for slave coding. Wheeljack took a deep vent and let it out slow. Tyrest kept talking. 

“That said. I will be visiting you two days a week at eight in the morning to check your progress. I expect you to be awake and ready. However, know that you will get nothing but my personal disappointment if you’re not, as these meetings were not mentioned in your contract. Therefore I cannot punish you for not complying to my terms associated with them.”

Wheeljack nodded. 

“But understand I would prefer not to find you- canoodling with your servant when I arrive.” 

Wheeljack nodded again, trying not to listen. 

“I look forward to working with you,” Tyrest said. He held out his drink and a servant took it. 

“Mirage will see you out.”

Tyrest snapped twice. One of the blue and white bots moved forward. Wheeljack stood, bowed to Tyrest, and made his way out. 

When they made it to the front door Mirage remained with him until the transport vehicle arrived. When it did Wheeljack was almost surprised to find he was alone on it. No Swindle in sight. As soon as Wheeljack got to his seat he slumped. He retracted his mask and scrubbed a hand down his face, letting out a long sigh. This was already insufferable. Wheeljack was surprised he hadn’t thrown up yet. 

The only good thing that came out of it was the very valuable knowledge that his house was full of high grade. That would certainly help. 

When Wheeljack returned to the house he found Swindle already there, standing right outside. He was wearing his sticky smile, Wheeljack didn’t like it. 

“Wheeljack,” Swindle said. “Welcome home.”

Wheeljack just grunted. 

Swindle stepped aside and ushered him inside. “I wanted to introduce you to your servant personally.”

Wheeljack really didn’t want to meet him. 

Swindle swept them into the main room. In the middle of it stood a red seeker. The cockpit was in his belly like the other seekers had been. A majority of the frame was red, besides the face of the wing which was white beside the edge. This seeker had a dark helm and sharp features. Wheeljack noticed this frame type was slightly more slender than the other seekers Wheeljack knew. Probably Tyrests doing. 

Wheeljack took a deep vent. 

“This is Starscream,” Swindle said. “We took your partners- Conjux, Amica,- into consideration and decided to pair you with a seeker. Tyrest thought it would help you adjust.”

“They aren’t my Conjux or Amica,” Wheeljack muttered, stepping forward. 

Swindle didn’t commnet. He stepped forward and began circling Starscream. 

“He’s very receptive,” Swindle said. “As I’m sure Lord Tyrest has told you. He’ll do everything you tell him to. He’s set to comfort bot at the moment, so he’s personable. If he sees you in distress he’ll try to console you. If you’d like the setting adjusted, just let us know. We’ll get on it right away.”

Wheeljack swallowed the lump in his throat. Unable to speak, he nodded. 

Swindle stepped right to the side of Starscream. 

“And there’s a trick,” Swindle said. He ran a finger up Starscream’s thigh until a wing twitched. “Very sensitive. And-” 

Swindle barely touched Starscream’s valve cover. It slipped back. Wheeljack turned his head away, jaw clenching. The cover snapped into place. Wheeljack tensed. It took every ounce of self control not to punch Swindle in his ugly mug. 

“Easy,” Swindle said. He shrugged. “That can be reset also. It’s all your personal preference.”

“Great,” Wheeljack ground out. “I think you can go now.”

Swindle didn’t say much more. He slipped out with nary a goodbye, leaving Wheeljack alone with Starscream. 

Wheeljack wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t just let Starscream stay there-

“Master Wheeljack.”

Okay, great. He spoke on his own, that was- slightly less unsettling. 

“Would you like me to make you a drink?”

It was like he could read minds. Wheeljack was admittedly thrown by how rough and ragged Starscream’s voice sounded. He wondered if maybe he had a cold, or and injury or- something. Wheeljack probably didn’t want to know.

Wheeljack shrugged. “If you’re offering,” he muttered. 

“Do you have a preference?”

“No. Just something strong. Anything strong.”

Starscream bowed his head slightly. He walked away and began making the drinks at the counter. Wheeljack shuffled to the couch and sat down. The weight returned to his tanks at the thought that the bot he was ordering around did almost everything against his will. Wheeljack didn’t have the mental strength to consider morals at the moment, so he shook it off. It was late. He was tired. Starscream probably was too. They would have a drink and go to bed. 

Wheeljack was suddenly struck with the thought of waking up in this house in the morning. The weight rose to his chest. He groaned, fingers digging into his plating just above his spark chamber. It hurt. Physically. 

Hopefully the drink would fix that.

Starscream walked to the couch with one tall drink sitting on tray. He leaned down to present it to Wheeljack. 

Wheeljack furrowed his brow as he took it. “Where’s yours?” he asked. 

“Servants are prohibited to drink high-grade on estate grounds,” Starscream said, standing up straight. “Even those owned by bots other than himself.”

Wheeljack looked into his cup. That was a weird rule. From Tyrests point of view it probably made sense. But Tyrests point of view was garbage so Wheeljack didn’t care. 

“You can bend the rules just this once, can’t you?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Wheeljack downed his drink. He placed the empty glass on the table as he stood up. “In that case,” he grunted. “I’m gonna make myself another drink.”

Starscream seemed to stiffed. He rushed to Wheeljack, who had already made his way to the kitchen. 

“Master Wheeljack, please. Let me-”

Wheeljack put a hand up to silence him. Surprisingly, it worked. 

“Nah, nah, nah,” Wheeljack opened one of the higher cupboard where the smaller glasses were. “Ain’t no need for that. I’m not gonna have some bot makin’ me a drink in my own house if he ain’t drinkin’.”

Wheeljack soon learned that he could not reach the higher glasses. He turned to Starscream for help. Starscream quickly complied. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Master Wheeljack?”

“Nope.”

Wheeljack pulled the top off a bottle of engex. As he prepared his drink he spoke. 

“These guys are weird, ya know. They say a lotta stuff. Like, oh we got you a bot programmed to your preferences. And they gave me a seeker, cause, ya know. All my friends are seekers. So naturally they assumed I’d want a seeker as my company,” Wheeljack turned around, drink in hand. He pointed to Starscream. “But they don’t think I just want your company. They’re thinkin’ other things. Nasty things.”

Wheeljack turned back to the cupboards and began digging about the alcohol. 

“So they hand me you. Starscream. Who they set to be all compliant and slag, and whatever. Gross stuff I don’t feel like thinkin’ ‘bout.”

He pulled out a bottle of soda. Or what looked like soda. Sparkling energon, maybe. Wheeljack recognized it as a fancier version of something people used to settle their stomachs or make their drinks more appealing. He pulled it out, grabbed a glass he could reach, and poured it. 

“I don’t really like the whole “master wheeljack” thing, or anything else they forced ya to get in yer head.” 

Wheeljack offered the non-alcoholic drink to Starscream. “So if you could stop callin’ me that I’d appreciate it.”

Starscream didn’t take the drink. 

“If you want to, take it. It’s not engex.”

Starscream looked between the drink and the bot holding it. After a moment he took it. 

“I’m not capable of calling you anything else.”

“No? Not in the programming?”

“No.”

“So I can’t change it at all?”

“No.”

“Huh. That’s stupid. Ya know, one’a my friends, she used to call me a bastard all the time.”

Wheeljack’s grip tightened on his glass. The ache returned to his spark. 

“But anyways,” he muttered, swallowing the bad feeling. He looked at the drink. Finishing it suddenly felt like a chore. He choked it down anyways. 

Starscream slowly nursed his glass. Wheeljack replaced his on the counter and waited for Starscream to finish. When he did Wheeljack took the glass from his servos and placed it beside the sink with the other. 

“I’m goin’ to bed,” he said. 

Starscream leaped to attention. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“I don’t get to pick it?”

Starscream seemed to pause. “I suppose you could. It is your house, Master Wheeljack.”

Starscream bowed again. Wheeljack was tempted to take him by the shoulders and make him stand up straight, but he was uncomfortable with touching Starscream to any degree. So Instead Wheeljack waited for Starscream to stand up straight. 

“How about the bowing thing?” Wheeljack asked. “Can I ask you to stop doin’ that?”

“Yes. But I will bow to all other superiors.”

Wheeljack slumped. “Okay, guess if that’s the best I’m gonna get,” he grumbled. He took a deep vent a scrub a hand down his face. “I’m gonna go upstairs and fall into the first berth I see. Is there something special about my room?”

“It’s the largest. It has a walk in closet-”

Which he didn’t need.

“-And a large full bath. A desk, and a very very large berth.”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “What do I need that for?” he asked, more as a rhetorical question than anything. Starscream answered it anyways.

“Orgies.”

Wheeljack was beginning to feel more and more surprised that he hadn’t thrown up at some point during this whole ordeal. 

Starscream's wings flapped gently behind him. “Lord Tyrest assumed you would make great use of the seekers he has on staff.”

Wheeljack laughed. The airy nervous laugh that comes out of people’s mouths when they hear something so far from the truth there’s no emotion to cover it. Just laughter. Chest clenching, empty laughter from someplace dark inside. 

“Oh my god,” Wheeljack grumbled. He shuttered an optic and tried to shake the feeling away. “Okay,” he said. “Just. Take me to the room. I don’t care.”

Starscream smiled. “Right this way, Master Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack was lead to his bedroom on the second floor. It was in a corner of the house right down the hallway. First door on the end. Wheeljack realized the house wasn't quite in the shape he thought it was. His room stemmed off the corner of the house. It had two large windows making up most of the sidewalls. 

A large berth sat against the back wall. A large desk sat in the top right-hand corner of the room. The berth was mostly empty besides a couple of pillow and a blanket. It was weird. Wheeljack walked forward and pressed his hand into the thick soft berthpad. 

Wheeljack paused. Starscream was still standing behind him. 

“Uh,” Wheeljack's vocalizer stunted. He cleared it. “Are you gonna go to bed?”

“I am supposed to stay with you at all times.”

Wheeljack looked around. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

Starscream pointed to an empty corner. Wheeljack followed his finger and furrowed his brow. 

“The corner?”

“It's an appropriate distance away.”

“No, I know- I mean. I mean-” Wheeljack wasn't even sure how to ask. He knew the answer. 

“The berth,” Wheeljack spat out. “Where are you gonna sleep. As in- lay yer body down.”

“I put myself into sleep mode and stand in the corner.” 

Wheeljack paused. He took a deep vent. “Okay,” he grumbled to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the ball of his palms into them. 

“Here's how this is gonna go. For tonight-” Wheeljack stepped forward. He hesitated before taking Starscream’s hand. Wheeljack only just took Starscream’s fingers, so the slim digits barely hung over Wheeljack’s much thicker ones. 

“You’re gonna sleep in the berth,” Wheeljack said, leading Starscream to the berth and sitting him down. “And I’m gonna-” he shrugged. “Sleep on the floor I guess.” 

Starscream’s wings flared. “Master Wheeljack-”

“Ey. Don’t argue. Just- make yerself comfortable, alright? I’m okay on the floor.”

Starscream’s lips pulled together, his eyes going slightly wide. “Are you sure, Master Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack knelt down. He gave Starscream’s knee a pat. “I’m fine. Just go to sleep. Real sleep. Like you ain’t ever slept in your life sleep.”

Starscream still seemed skeptical. He looked at the berth and ran his hand over the soft pad. He looked back at Wheeljack. 

Starscream spoke so softly Wheeljack nearly thought he’d imagined it.

“You are very different than my previous masters. I hope this place doesn’t ruin you.”

Something sullen crested Wheeljack’s brow. He took a deep vent and nodded. “Goodnight, Starscream.”

“Goodnight, Master Wheeljack.”


	7. Mode to Mode to Mode

Tyrest didn’t visit the first day, thank god. He didn’t visit the second day. Wheeljack began to think Tyrest’s visits would start at the beginning of the next week. Wheeljack also had yet to get a single project. Which meant he was left to his own devices. His devices being nothing but drinking. And drinking and drinking.

When Wheeljack got drunk Starscream was kind enough to sit him in front of the vid-screen and just sit beside him. Actually sit, not just stand beside the couch like he’d done for their first two days together. Wheeljack realized that he could make Starscream do whatever he wanted. It was an unsettling thought, but it also meant that Wheeljack could make Starscream relax, and sit, and sleep in a berth. Things he had apparently never been allowed to do before. He also told Starscream that he was allowed to swear, be on his own, and take showers alone. In Wheeljack’s washroom, which was excessively large.

Starscream was given pretty much free reign of the house. He could sit wherever, eat wherever, drink whatever, eat whatever. Sleep anywhere, wash anywhere, and never have to touch the servants quarters. Which was essentially a supply closet with a quick rinse unit. Outside. Preparing food and bathing was the only time Starscream was allowed to be alone. Wheeljack encouraged him to take long showers.

To keep his mind off his friends and his current situation Wheeljack had taken to drinking and working. He wasn’t working on anything specific, just off hand projects with no endgame. Nothing big, nothing important, heck, not even anything useful. Just stuff. Stuff people have already invented like energon synthesizers and air filters and shower heads.

Shower heads for Primus sake.

Wheeljack scratched at his finial as Starscream emerged from the shower.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink, Master?”

Wheeljack shook his head, “no. Thanks,” he grumbled.

“You’ve been working very hard all day.”

“Mm.”

Starscream came to stand beside Wheeljack at the desk.

“Would you like to take a break, Master? You’ve been inside for four days.”

Wheeljack wasn’t really listening. He shook his head. “Nah, working,” he grumbled, barely moving his lips.

Starscream shifted so he was slightly in front of Wheeljack. Starscream’s voice dropped slightly when he spoke again.

“You seem very stressed,” he said.

Wheeljack felt the sharp claws tickle his wrist but didn’t think anything of it.

“Maybe I can help you relax.”

Wheeljack was pulled from his work when his hand touched warm plating. Something soft and damp pressed into his palm. When Wheeljack looked to see what was happening he found his palm pressed against Starscream’s valve. Wheeljack pulled away so violently he sent himself and the chair toppling over.

Wheeljack hit the ground hard. He groaned, his whole body aching. When Starscream moved forward to help him, though, Wheeljack quickly got ahold of himself and backed away.

“Don’t- just-” he put his hand out to stop Starscream from coming any closer. “Just go back and- stand there. Just stand there.”

Starscream did as he was told. He stood beside the desk and didn’t move.

Wheeljack eventually stood up and went to the washroom to wash his hands. When he returned to the desk Starscream was still standing there, eyes forward, wings high. Wheeljack got back to work and tried to forget what had just happened. He managed to work in silence for a while. Of course it couldn’t last.

“Master Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack sighed. “What?”

“Am I undesirable to you?”

Wheeljack paused. He looked at Starscream and furrowed his brow. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You haven’t made any attempt to interface with me. We’ve been together for almost five days now. Most masters take me within the first hour.”

Wheeljack rolled his eyes and went back to his work. “You’re fine, Starscream. I just don’t want to interface.”

“But it’s not me?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Wheeljack let out a long vent and put down his pen. “Ya know what? I am a little hungry. Let’s have dinner. You want some dinner? I want dinner.”

Starscream perked. “Yes, of course. What would you like me to make?”

“I don’t want you to make anything.”

Starscream furrowed his brow. “Master Wheeljack, do you know how to prepare solid food?”

Wheeljack opened his mouth but immediately closed it. “Ey. No. But don’t mean I can’t learn.”

“Uh-” Starscream cleared his vocalizer. “Then. I’ll teach you,” he said. Starscream waited, as if Wheeljack was going to argue with him about it. No argument ever came.

“Okay,” Starscream said. “Shall we go to the kitchen?”

Wheeljack leaped off his stool. “We shall,” he said, only slightly committed to his better mood. They made their way downstairs. Starscream pulled a couple of small alloygator tails from the fridge before asking Wheeljack what he would like on the side. Wheeljack selected shaved copper. Wheeljack had never known the wonderful taste of copper, now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Would you like anything else, Master?” Starscream asked. “We’ve had copper the last four nights.”

“I’ve also had a bottle and a half of Green Tungsten high grade the last four nights, what's your point?”

Starscream snapped his mouth shut. “I apologize, Master, I didn’t mean to question you.”

“What? No, I’m just teasing. Make yerself somethin’ else if you want, You know I don’t care.”

Wheeljack stepped up the the counter and looked just past Starscream.

“So show me how to do this.”

Starscream showed Wheeljack how to prepare the meat, set the oven, and warm up the sides. Starscream, to Wheeljack’s surprise, selected nuggets as his side, and tossed them in the pan with Wheeljack’s copper shavings.

Wheeljack had always considered himself a quick learner. Cooking was a whole ‘nother thing it seemed. Granted, Wheeljack had yet to do anything, leaving it all to Starscream until next time. It didn’t look too complicated. Then again, after more than a few incident involving flames and flammable things Wheeljack had been advised to stay away from fire. The warning had come from Sunstorm, who was much kinder in his threats than Acid Storm.

Starscream finished cooking and plated the meal. Together they sat in the small dining room beside the kitchen. They ate in silence. Starscream drank regular energon while Wheeljack had a tall glass of something that would make him feel fuzzy later.

After dinner Wheeljack kept drinking. Starscream’s brow crested with concern like it had every night.

“Master, I think that’s enough.”

“No, we’re fine,” Wheeljack said, his optics dimming as he poured himself another drink. He shook his head and put all his concentration into not spilling the engex. “I’m just gonna have one more.”

“No. You’re not.”

Wheeljack wasn’t a lightweight, persey, he could hold his liquor. Like anyone, though, he could only hold it for so long. In the four days since he got there Wheeljack had only drank himself to throwing up once. Since then Starscream had done a good job of cutting him off. Today was no exception.

“Alright, Master,” Starscream said, taking the bottle from the wobbly Wheeljack’s hand. “I think you’ve had enough now.”

Wheeljack looked at his hand confused. Starscream helped him to stand and took him to the couch so they could watch the vid-screen. There wasn’t anything on but old cartoons and sitcoms. Wheeljack seemed to find them entertaining. Apparently he’d never watched a vid-screen before.

“Master Wheeljack,” Starscream started after about an hour of silence between them. “Why do you do this to yourself every night?”

Wheeljack hummed. “Do what?” he grumbled, itching his stomach.

“Get yourself overcharged.”

“Hm. That. I dunno. Makes it easier I guess.”

“Makes what easier?”

“This. Livin’ like this. I hate this house ya know. Lonely. Big. Wasteful. All a lotta waste.”

“You’re feeling homesick.”

“Lotta, sick, of a lotta things.”

Starscream adjusted himself slightly so he was facing Wheeljack more.

“You realize, Master Wheeljack, that I’m here for your comfort. You can use me for stress relief.”

Wheeljack’s head fell to the side. Blank tired optics landed on Starscream. After a few seconds Wheeljack sat up a little, grunting at the exertion.

“Ya know, I’m beginning to wonder,” he slumped back into the couch. “Do people here talk about anything that isn’t interface?”

Starscream seemed taken back by this.

“I mean, for real,” Wheeljack continued, “since I got here, that’s all anyone seems ta wanna do. Tyrest, an’ Swindle, an’ I mean- you. Not you, I don’t know if you want to do it, it’s probably just the program all’a that. But yeah. Everybody’s all about it. Gettin’ kinda tired of all these people wantin’ me to take advantage of you.”

Starscream’s lips drew into a thin line.

“They programmed me for comfort,” he said softly. “That just means interface.”

“Shouldn’t be programmin’ you for anything. Listen- I don’t want you like that, alright? I ain’t ever gonna. I ain’t ever gonna want you, or any other bot like that. So quit askin’ ‘bout it,” Wheeljack rubbed his sore forehead. “Soon as I figure it out, I’m gonna fix that stupid thing,” he muttered.

Wheeljack could feel his high going down. He shoved himself to his feet and shuffled over to the kitchen for another bottle. Fortunately Starscream had left a half empty bottle on the counter so it wasn’t too much work to get ahold of. Wheeljack just drank right out of it, not even bothering with a glass. Starscream didn’t try and stop him.

When Wheeljack felt sufficiently fuzzy again he topped off the bottle and threw it in the incinerator.

“Goin’ to bed,” Wheeljack slurred.

Starscream turned off the vid-screen and followed Wheeljack to the room. Wheeljack shuffled all the way to the bed. He fell flat on his face beside it and was asleep within thirty seconds after a weak, slurred, “goodnight, Starscream.”

Starscream retrieved an extra blanket from the hallway and threw it over Wheeljack. With a small sigh Starscream rubbed the blanket gently into his back. When Wheeljack was settled Starscream stood up and wandered over to his masters desk. Technically Starscream wasn’t supposed to touch any of Wheeljack’s work. But Wheeljack had given him the freedom to do whatever he wanted, and Starscream’s setting was relatively low to begin with. Not the lowest it could be, but still low.

Starscream took a moment to inspect what Wheeljack had been working so vigorously on earlier. It looked like junk. Probably because it was.

When Starscream was satisfied he laid himself down in the berth, close to the edge, and close to Wheeljack. Starscream hung an arm off the edge of the berth and gently ran it over Wheeljack’s shoulder. He was so peaceful when he was asleep. So angry, and tired, and stressed when he was awake. None of it ever turned on Starscream, though. There was no violence, or yelling, or interfacing, no anything. Wheeljack countered his frustrations

Wheeljack was a curious case. Most of Starscream’s free thought was dedicated to the stupid things Wheeljack did to himself. He worked himself to exhaustion, he didn’t go outside, he closed most of the curtains, and practically drank himself into a coma every night.

For a smart guy he was pretty stupid.

Starscream hummed to himself. ‘No,’ he thought to himself, ‘he’s just sad.’ Also stupid. But that was a different matter. One to be dealt with later. For now Starscream rolled over and turned down the lights for the night.

 

* * *

 

 

Starscream got up early to shower and prepare Wheeljack’s meal. Starscream never cooked food for himself in the morning, just in case Wheeljack, for whatever reason, changed his mind on what Starscream could or could not do.

When Wheeljack emerged from his room he was much chipper than usual. Chipper meaning a slightly better mood than normal, but still depressed.

“I figured it out,” he said, sitting down at the table. “I think I got it.”

“What did you get, Master Wheeljack?”

“You’ll see. How do I call someone up if I wanna change something?”

Starscream’s wings fluttered slightly behind him. “You call the main estate. They’ll send someone out to help you.”

“How do I call the main estate?”

“Youn use the house phone.”

“Where is the house phone.”

“It’s by the door.”

Wheeljack skipped his meal and went right for the house phone. He pressed the only button on the phone. It rang twice. An unfamiliar voice answered.

“Main Estate, what can we do for you today.”

“Ey, yo, it’s Wheeljack.”

“Master Wheeljack. What can we do for you today?”

“So I can call you if I want the setting on my servant changed, right?”

Starscream stiffened. Wheeljack spared him a fleeting glance.

“Of course, Master Wheeljack, Should we send an adjuster now?”

“Yeah yeah, quick as ya can.”

“Of course, Master Wheeljack. He’ll be right over.”

“Great, thanks.”

Wheeljack hung up. He turned back to Starscream and headed for the table. Wheeljack must have noticed Starscream’s stiff posture because he moved in a rare gesture of affection. He took Starscream’s hand and gave the back of it a pat.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered. “I ain’t gonna take anything away from you.”

Starscream visibly eased.

When Wheeljack finished his meal he cleaned his own dishes and stuck them back in the cupboard. He poured himself and Starscream a drink and waited for the adjustor to arrive.

When he did, it was with a rapid little knock at the door. Starscream opened it and found a small, one wheeled, yellow bot on the other side.

“Master Kaput,” Starscream said, bowing to the smaller bot.

“Starscream. What have you done this time?”

Wheeljack stood from the couch and came to meet the bot called Kaput.

“Wheeljack. I’ve been asked to ask you how you’re enjoying your stay here at the estate.”

“It’s fine. I need an adjustment done on Starscream.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

Kaput sighed, looking over his shoulder at Starscream before addressing Wheeljack again.

“Let me guess, you’d like me to take away his speech function?”

“What? No. No, nothin’ like that. I was hopin’ you could adjust the whole valve thing he’s got goin’.”

Kaput perked. He furrowed his brow. “You want me to make it- more sensitive?” he asked slowly.

“No. I want you to make it less sensitive.”

“Oh.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Are you gonna do it?” Wheeljack asked.

“Oh. Oh yes. Tell him to sit on the couch please.”

Kaput rolled over to the couch. Wheeljack addressed Starscream and did as he was instructed.

Starscream sat down on the edge of the seat. He parted his wings and held perfectly still. Wheeljack stood behind the couch and watched as Kaput did his thing. He pulled a small tool box from his subspace and placed it carefully on the couch. It flipped open into three compartments.

“This is a pretty complicated procedure,” Wheeljack said.

Kaput put his monocle in place. “It depends on the adjustment.”

“It’s one module right?”

“Yes.”

Kaput used a small device to spark the back of Starscream’s neck, just below the helm. It split open revealing a small control board. Wheeljack leaned in a little so he could see better, but not so much it would disturb Kaput. With a pair of tweezers Kaput removed one of the small drives from the module and set it aside.

“What do you want the adjustment to be?” he asked, opening up a small box and looking through his teeny tiny drives.

“Normal. What it would be without the module.” Wheeljack said.

“Hm. That’s a new one. So you want him to control it.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Alright.”

Kaput picked up one of the black drives and placed it in the empty slot. Wheeljack leaned over just a little bit more and noticed that two of Starscream’s drives were black. The rest appeared to be green and yellow.

“You can go ahead and close up, Starscream.” Said Kaput.

Kaput turned to Wheeljack. “Go ahead and test it.”

Wheeljack almost flinched. “Uh. No. I think I trust you.”

Wheeljack stepped forward. “So, you know all about this tech, right? You’re like the only guy they got or somethin’?”

“I am. Is there anything else you want adjusted on Starscream before I leave?”

“I don’t know, what are his settings right now?”

Kaput seemed to resist the urge to sigh. He turned back to Starscream, who was still opened up, and pointed to the six drives in his neck.

“Speech, array, wings, language, compliance, and movement. Most of your settings are green, fairly low. Tyrest mandates we don’t go lower than green on anything but array and speech. Lord Tyrest can’t stand foul language.”

“Hm. So lowest is black, I’m guessing.”

“I’m not mandated to tell you that.”

Kaput closed up his tool box. “But yes. Black is the lowest.”

Kaput packed everything up and rolled off the couch. “If everything is to your liking I’m going to go. Understand, Wheeljack, with Starscream’s array setting so low he can technically resist interface.”

“I am well aware.”

“Good. Then don’t call me when you’re upset about your decision. I get enough complaints.”

Wheeljack held the door open for Kaput. “I’m sure I won’t.”

When Kaput was out the door Wheeljack shoved it so it swung closed. “Alright.”

Wheeljack made his way over to Starscream.

“Come on,” Wheeljack said, flicking a hand gesturing for Starscream to follow. “We’re goin’ to my room.”

Starscream stood to attention. He followed Wheeljack to his room and was told to sit on the berth. Wheeljack climbed onto the berth behind him. Starscream felt it shift, his plating tightened.

Wheeljack pulled out of his sub-space a small box, a pair of tweezers, and the little device that Kaput had used. It took Wheeljack a moment to figure out how to spark the back of Starscream’s neck and open up the module.

“Master Wheeljack,” Starscream was almost whispering. “What are you doing?”

Wheeljack didn’t answer. He removed all of the drives that weren’t black, one by one, and replaced them with a black drive. As soon as he placed the last one in the slot the module snapped shut.

An elbow made contact with the side of Wheeljack’s head. Starscream whipped around and grabbed him by the neck, throwing him to the floor and holding him there.

Wheeljack held his hands up in innocence. He stiffened and wheezed, but waited until Starscream calmed before saying anything. The sudden fury disappeared. Starscream stood up. His vents were heavy, optics bright. He looked at both of his hands as if he’d never seen them before.

“What did you do, master?” he vented.

Wheeljack sat up with a sharp. “Damn.” He leaned back on his hands. “Still with the master thing?”

“It’s- it’s deep seeded-” Starscream took a few steps back. He put a hand to his head. “You can’t-” the world turned around him. Starscream stumbled back and fainted, falling limp to the floor.

Wheeljack was on his feet in seconds. He knelt down beside Starscream and brought his head into his lap.

Wheeljack waited. After a while he hauled Starscream off the floor, putting one arm under his knees, the other just at the base of his shoulders. Starscream was heavy, but Wheeljack managed. He laid Starscream down on the berth, took a seat on the floor. And waited.


	8. Mind to Mind to Mind

Starscream groaned. He came to slowly, his head rolling over the pillow. Wheeljack leaned over him, trying to see if he was really awake.

“Starscream?”

Starscream's hand whipped out as he sat up, and slapped Wheeljack square in the face. A split second later Starscream gasped.

“Oh, I'm sorry Master, are you alright?”

Wheeljack rubbed his cheek. The same cheek that had taken the elbow only a few minutes earlier. Wheeljack groaned.

“Fine,” he said. Wheeljack shook it off and turned his attention to Starscream. “How are you feeling?”

Starscream scowled and slapped him again, this time on purpose. “You can't just replace them all at once, you idiot,” he screeched. “Do you have any idea what that does to the brain?”

Wheeljack rubbed his jaw. “Apparently not.”

Starscream scoffed. “Some genius. What are you going to do now, Master?” Starscream paused. He worked his jaw and tried again. “Master Wheeljack. Frag.”

“You said it was deep seeded.”

“It is.”

Starscream's frame visibly eased. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his hand again. It moved when he told it to move, how he told it to move. A raw emptiness filled his spark. A headache rocked his system. Starscream layed back down. His tanks churned. A soft groan escaped his lips. He closed his eyes tight and rolled to his side.

“It'll probably take a while for your systems to reset themselves.” Wheeljack said.

Starscream's eyes split open. His red glare was dim as he looked at Wheeljack. Starscream shook his head. “You're weird, grounder.”

Wheeljack gave Starscream's arm a pat. “Rest right now. I'll be here if ya need me.”

“I don't want to rest,” Starscream mumbled, his face pressed halfway into the pillow.

“Well, that's too bad isn't it?”

Wheeljack pulled the blanket over Starscream's shivering frame.

While Wheeljack hadn’t necessarily anticipated this specific reaction, he did assume that there would be a reaction. It was likely Starscream's mind hadn’t been fully synced with his body for a number of years. It would take some time for Starscream to adjust to being in touch with his own actions, thoughts and feelings. What would happen from here Wheeljack wasn’t sure.

Wheeljack stayed in the room and worked at his desk. When lunch time came he prepared Starscream a cube of energon, which he didn’t drink. Wheeljack made himself a cube. The tart and bitter taste of it brought him back home. He quickly pushed the cube aside and abandoned it for the evening.

As the sun began to dip Starscream began to stir. He took a deep vent and rolled over onto his back. Wheeljack put down his pen and watched Starscream move. He kicked the blanket off and stretched his arms above his head. Eventually his body went limp. Wheeljack could hear the soft steady vents, but Starscream remained dead still. Slowly his eyes opened into narrow slits. On shaky limbs Starscream shifted so he was on his hands and knees.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” he said.

Starscream clamped a hand over his mouth. He gagged and buckled to his elbows.

Wheeljack rushed to the washroom and grabbed the waste basket from inside the door. He made it to Starscream just in time. Starscream purged into the empty bucket. He spat into the bucket and handed it back to Wheeljack when he was done.

Starscream wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Wheeljack was about to ask how he was feeling, but Starscream closed his eyes and fell back into the berth, dead asleep again.

Wheeljack washed the bucket out in the shower and placed it beside the berth.

Starscream woke up three times that night. Each time he awoke it was brief. Once was to down the cube beside the bed. The second time was to throw it up. And the third was to groan and wail about the pain in his head for a solid five minutes before falling back into recharge.

When the night grew deep Wheeljack sat and listened. Starscream was clicking. With his tongue against the top of his mouth he. But he didn’t wake up. His whole body was clicking. The sound resembled a clock, or the sound Wheeljack picked up when he pressed his ear against the back of a datapad.

Wheeljack didn’t sleep that night. Just as the sun was beginning to rise, Starscream awoke again.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had free will?” he asked. His voice was cracked and full of static, He stared at the ceiling as he spoke. “Five hundred years.”

Wheeljack nearly broke his pen.

“I forget what my body feels like.”

Starscream lifted his hand and looked at it again. He clenched and unclenched his fist. He let it fall limp and wagged it around, slowly, watching it move. He lowered it back to his side.

“I still don’t know.”

“You should go back to sleep,” Wheeljack said, not moving from his desk. “You’re body is trying to reset itself.”

Starscream humphed a weak laugh, a smile flashing briefly on his lips. “Reset,” he muttered. “Reset the world, why don’t you?”

Wheeljack sat up a little straighter. Starscream finally looked at him.

“You seem so determined to prove them wrong,” he said. His words were clear, but they sounded as though they should have been slurred. “You’re weird, you know that? They won’t like you here.”

Wheeljack felt the urge to reply, but something told him Starscream wouldn’t hear him.

“One of my Masters had a cat. That cat hated me. But that’s okay, because I didn’t like him very much either.”

Starscream put the ball of his hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “I think you’re really stupid,” he said. “You’re really stupid for someone who’s supposed to be really smart.”

Wheeljack clenched his jaw.

“And you can't get mad,” Starscream said, “because you know it's true. You're going to drink yourself to death.”

Wheeljack suddenly felt the need to defend himself. “Nothin wrong with drinking.”

“Not the way competent people do it.”

Wheeljack huffed.

Starscream's eyes snapped open. He looked at Wheeljack.

“You want to drink the pain away,” Starscream hummed. “Make yourself forget. I don't know if I'll be able to make new memories after this. I know I don't have old ones.”

Starscream dropped his hand back to the berth. His head rolled so he was looking at the ceiling again. “I'd give my left arm to remember a life before this place,” he shook his head. “Don't forget Wheeljack. You won't like it as much as you think you will.”

Starscream drifted back to sleep. It left Wheeljack by himself to think.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop looking at it.”

Sunstorm jolted out of his trance. He looked wide eyed at Acid Storm.

“He’s not coming back.”

Sunstorm’s wing drooped. He glanced back at the spot. “He said he might visit,” he said softly.

Acid Storm scoffed. “You really think they’d let him?”

“I read the contract.”

“You and me both-”

“It never said he couldn’t leave the house.”

Acid Storm just rolled her eyes. It had been four days, almost five now. Everyone was working to keep themselves distracted. Wheeljack wasn’t dead, not as far as they knew. But who really knew? Everyone who went to the estate never came back. No prisoners, no kidnapees, no contract owners. Nobody. If they did they were dead within days.

Acid Storm had to admit she preferred Wheeljack live on the estate for the rest of his life than leave and die a mad man on the streets. They’d lost five seekers to Tyrest, both Sunstorm, and Ion Storms brother among them. Acid Storm wanted to comfort them both. Losing Wheeljack had brought all of those bad feelings flooding back. But Acid Storm had never been good at comfort.

Sunstorm turned to her. “Maybe we’ll see him again.”

Acid Storm scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she flicked her head to the side. “Come on,” she said, making her way down the street. “Lets go home. Nobody’s out tonight.”

Sunstorm perked. He scurried to catch up. When they were in stride Sunstorm tried to put on a smile. “I’d like to think we’ll see him again.”

Acid Storm resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Now was not the time.

Sunstorm kept talking. He talked all the way home. Acid Storm assumed it was to make himself feel better, so she didn’t say anything.

“I pray for him every night, you know,” Sunstorm said. “Do you think everyone’s already home?”

“No.”

Acid Storm stopped at Slipstream’s office. She collected the money from Sunstorm before ducking inside.

Slipstream watched Acid Storm’s every move. Carefully Acid Storm un-subspaced the collected money and presented it to her employer. Slipstream counted. Slowly. One bill over the next. One. By. One. Her eyes landed on Acid Storm and stayed there. She wasn’t even counting.

“There’s not enough-”

“We’ve been out all night-”

Slipstream slapped her hand on the desk, making everything rattle atop it. “It’s not enough,” she repeated.

Acid Storm scowled. “Well what do you want us to do?”

Slipstream scowled. She folded up the money and wandered over to the opposite wall. She opened up a little compartment and stuck the money in a safe. When she wandered back over to Acid Storm every step was slow and calculated. Her thrusters were loud, even over the hum of the music outside the door.

She came to a stop in front of Acid Storm. Slipstream brought her hand up and slapped Acid Storm across the face. Sharp claws drew blood. Acid Storm tried not to wince, but it stung. She turned her steely glare to Slipstream. A streak of blood trickled down her cheek, past her jaw.

Slipstream grabbed Acid Storm by the back of the head and slapped her face into the desk, bringing her to her knees. Slipstream spoke in her ear, keeping Acid Storm’s face pressed to the desk.

“You don’t have your little grounder to protect you anymore, Storm. You have an incentive. You work for me. I own you. And don’t forget it.”

With one last shove Slipstream released. She stood up straight and walked back around the desk. For a moment she stood looking at her wall.

“You can go.”

Acid Storm took a deep vent. Her head was spinning but she stood up. In the hallways she nearly toppled over the railing. It took a moment for her to steady herself, but she managed. Acid Storm huffed, rubbing her bruised head gently with the tips of her cold fingers. It made it feel marginally better.

She shuffled to the stairway. On the way up she nearly slipped, but managed to regain her balance. With a heavy head and cloudy thoughts Acid Storm made the rest of her way to the apartment. Sunstorm was sitting on the berth cross legged. He was reading a datapad, probably the last thing Wheeljack had sold him. Wheeljack’s old books and magazines had been all he’d been reading. That, and Primus’ book.

Sometimes, after a long night, Acid Storm let Sunstorm read excerpts from the good book. Acid Storm didn’t believe it herself, but knowing it brought comfort to Sunstorm, brought comfort to her.

Sunstorm looked up from his book. He didn’t say anything, but climbed to his feet and grabbed the medical kit from under the berth. Acid Storm fell into one of the chairs. Sunstorm scurried up beside her. Acid Storm let him wipe her cheek and put disinfectant on the cut before putting a small bandage on it.

“We’ll probably need new supplies for the medical kit soon,” Sunstorm said, keeping his voice hush. He began packing it up. “Where should we get it?”

Acid Storm split her eyes open. “What?”

“Now that- Wheeljack is closed. Where should we get it.”

Acid Storm closed her eyes and took a deep vent. “Just go to the convenient store.”

Sunstorm closed up the kit and set it aside. “I think we have to ask Slipstream. None of us have a purchasing license.”

“I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

“Can I read to you tonight?”

Acid Storm shook her head. “No. My head hurts.”

Sunstorm spoke softer. “Alright,” he perked a bit, trying to smile again. “You know, I was thinking about when Wheeljack got back-”

“Stop. Talking. About Wheeljack.” Acid Storm said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

The small smile on Sunstorm’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I just miss him.”

Acid Storm’s head snapped up. “Well you’re not the only one who misses him, alright?” she leaned her head back on her hand. “So just- shut up about it. You’re doing the same thing you did when your brother disappeared.”

Sunstorm’s entire frame slumped. After a moment he scowled. “It’s not bad to have hope, Storm.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying.”

Acid Storm lifted her head again. “I’m saying they’re gone,” she snapped. “Hope all you want but you’re not doing yourself any favors,” she sighed, returning to rubbing her head. “You can’t live with someone who doesn’t exist, Sunny. You just can’t.”

“Primus-”

“Doesn’t do bots like us any favors.”

Sunstorm slapped his hands on his lap and stood up. He took the medical kit and tucked it back under the bed.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he said, walking back to Acid Storm. “I can’t have hope-”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t have Primus,”

“Sunstorm-”

Sunstorm’s voice cracked. “I can’t have my brother. I can’t have Wheeljack.”

“Sunstorm,” Acid Storm tried to be stern.

“What, Acid Storm? What?” he snapped.

Acid Storm eased when she saw the tears streaming down Sunstorm’s face.

“I never said any of that.”

Sunstorm wiped his face.

“You can read to me tonight if you want. Or we can wait for everyone else to get home.”

Sunstorm sniffled, no longer trying to wipe a tears as they came. He nodded. “I can wait.”

Acid Storm put her hand out. “Come here.”

Sunstorm stepped forward and took Acid Storm’s outstretched hand. He took a knee just before the chair, and bowed his head. Under his breath he whispered a prayer. One for Wheeljack. One for the brothers and sisters who didn’t share his spark. One for the brother who did. And one for Acid Storm.

Acid Storm wanted to tell him everything would be fine. Wheeljack would come back. Nobody would be hurt tonight.

Acid Storm couldn’t promise that.

It made her spark clench in it’s casing. She squeezed Sunstorm’s hand and rested their heads together.

 

* * *

 

 

Wheeljack jolted awake. He was disoriented for a moment before his vision cleared up. He looked around for a moment. The sun was up. The curtains were pulled to the side to let in the light. All the memories of the day before smacked Wheeljack at once. He turned to the berth and found Starscream sitting up, looking at him.

Wheeljack scrubbed the remaining blur from his eyes. “Starscream.”

Starscream sat halfway under a blanket with his hands in his lap. “I’m feeling much better.”

Wheeljack sat up straight. “Great,” he cleared his throat. “You- uh. You want somethin’ to eat? Haven’t eaten since day before yestarday.”

“I’m still throwing up.”

“Oh.”

“And I still can’t think straight.”

“Ah.”

“I’m- having a hard time getting around. And thinking. I don’t remember much from last night.”

“That’s not surprising,” Wheeljack climbed off the stool and made his way over to the berth. “Your body probably isn’t synced with your brain yet.”

Starscream scowled as Wheeljack took a seat on the berth. “Gee, I wonder whos fault that would be.”

“At least you remember you’re mad at me.”

“You replaced six drives directly connected to my spinal cord. I remember.”

“The device is directly connected to your spinal cord?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

Wheeljack shut his mouth. Starscream sighed.

“Why did you do this?”

Wheeljack shrugged. “It felt wrong. Havin’ you act like that.”

Starscream shook his head. “How do you know you’ll like this version?”

“I don’t care how much I like you.”

“You have to live with me. How do you know I’m not completely and utterly insufferable.”

Again Wheeljack shrugged. “Well, so far you’ve elbowed me in the face, and slapped me twice.”

“Oh.”

“I think I’m doin’ pretty good so far.”

“Hm.”

Silence settled between them. Starscream rubbed his head with the tips of his fingers. “The battery on the module creates waste.”

Wheeljack wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“I think it’s making me sick.”

“Do you feel sick?”

“I feel-” Starscream stopped short. He clamped his mouth shut and turned his gaze to the hands in his lap. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“How about your head?

Starscream perked. He took the hand away from his head as though he just realized it had been there. He lowered it back to his lap and shook his head.

Wheeljack adjusted himself a bit so he was facing Starscream more.

Wheeljack held up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Starscream squinted at them. He mouthed numbers and pointed to them, counting. After a second he drew back and thought. “Three?” He said slowly.

“Try again.”

Starscream repeated his process, and this time came up with two. Next Wheeljack asked him what two plus two was. Starscream took a long time to answer, and eventually gave up. He shook his head. “It’s not coming to me.”

“Looks like yer brain is having a hard time functioning without the module commands.”

“I’m going to lay back down.”

“Good. You should.”

Starscream laid back down and fell asleep. Wheeljack stood up and went to the kitchen to make himself a cube. For a moment he stared into the purple liquid, contemplating whether or not he actually wanted to drink it. Since last night his stomach had been feeling funny. He wasn’t sure if it was the solid food, the energon, or Starscream’s current state.

The weight returned. He put the cube on the counter and left it there.

Instead Wheeljack went for the engex below the counter. He told himself one drink, and had one drink. Then had another, and told himself only one more after that. He pushed down what Starscream had said, and the guilt he felt for putting a bot in that kind of state. Undeserved guilt, but guilt nonetheless.

Halfway through the bottle of engex and the sun was beginning to dip on the fifth day. Tyrest still hadn’t come. A thought fleeted in the back of Wheeljack’s mind that Tyrest would likely come the first day of the next week. Which meant he should be sober, and have Starscream up and moving by then. The thought poked at Wheeljack, but he ignored it.

Wheeljack wandered up to the bedroom. Starscream had been asleep all day besides the few minutes in the morning. He was speaking, clear words, but incoherent sentences. It was a jumble of statements and swears. Probably the speech function resetting itself. Hopefully next he would get mobility down.

Wheeljack seated himself on the floor against the wall. He watched and listened as he topped off the bottle and drank himself to sleep.


	9. Plate to Plate to Plate

Wheeljack woke up with an empty bottle in his hand. He was still leaning against the wall, surprisingly enough. The second thing he noticed, besides that, was the empty berth. Wheeljack sobered up pretty quick. He leaped to his feet and rushed to the washroom. The only place he could imagine Starscream would go. When he wasn't in the washroom Wheeljack called as he ran through the house.

“Starscream!” Wheeljack nearly fell on his face going down the stairs. He stopped short when he spotted Starscream sitting at the table.

Wheeljack breathed a sigh of relief. “Starscream.”

Wheeljack came around and found Starscream stuffing his face with what must have been half the food in the kitchen. He chugged down a huge glass of energon and ate like his life depended on it. He only paused to burp, then went right back at it.

“Feelin’ better?”

“I am so hungry.”

Starscream said between bites. “Do you have any idea how much the module let's me eat? Barely anything.”

Starscream barely even chewed the food. He grabbed handfuls of food and shoved them in his mouth at the speed of light. When the last plate was empty Starscream leaned back and closed his eyes.

Wheeljack sat across from him and waited. Starscream split an eye open.

“I might throw up.”

“Want a bucket?”

“No.”

Starscream closed his eyes again. He stayed like that for almost thirty minutes. Wheeljack sat, patiently waiting for Starscream to move. Or speak. Or start eating again.

Starscream did eventually stand and wander back over to the cupboards for a box of energon goodies hiding on the top shelf. He dug right into it, taking handful after handful into his mouth. He sauntered over to Wheeljack and held out the box.

Wheeljack put his hand up. “They're all yours.”

Starscream began eating the goodies one by one as he wandered over to the living room.

“So-” he said, just before popping a treat in his mouth. “What were you planning on doing with me after I got back on my feet?”

Starscream's frame stiffened for a split second. It didn't seem to phase him. Probably residual glitches.

Wheeljack shrugged. “I didn't have a plan. I just wanted to get you back to normal.”

Starscream walked right into the table on the way to the couch. He looked down at it as if it had just appeared out of nowhere. Very carefully Starscream shuffled around it and sat down on the couch.

“I still have to follow you around you know. Go to all the parties with you. Go to all the meetings with you. Do what you say when any of the Masters are around.”

Starscream lounged back and placed the nearly empty box of treats in his lap.

“How are you going to handle bossing me around then,” he looked at Wheeljack. “Master.”

Wheeljack frowned. “You really can't get rid of that, can you?”

Starscream sneered. “I wish,” he popped a treat I his mouth. “But anyways. I know you hate bossing me around. And believe me, I hate taking orders. But until that old fart dies and some other sorry sap takes over, we're stuck together. I can't get away. Neither can you.”

Wheeljack stood up and went to join Starscream on the couch.

“Can't you just- I dunno- run away?”

Starscream rolled his eyes. “You really don't know anything, do you? You can't just-” his whole body seized- “let me go. Tyrest would find me. As soon as he found me he'd either kill me or drag me right back here,” he shoved the empty box in Wheeljack's chest and stood up.

“I guess you could use a lesson in how things work around here-” Starscream glitched again. “But not right now-” he started towards the stairs on wobbly legs that took him in all different directions. “I'm going back to bed.”

Wheeljack moved to get behind Starscream just in case he fell backwards. The journey to the bedroom was slow and meticulous. At one point Starscream paused. He looked around.

“Where the hell am I?” He muttered. One glitch later and he was back enroute. When they reached the bedroom Starscream fell face first into the berth and was asleep in seconds.

Wheeljack sat back at his desk and started to work.

 

* * *

 

Starscream threw up over the course of the night. Probably about everything he’d eaten that morning. He was much more vocal about his displeasure this time around than last time.

Starscream wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and spit into the sick.

“Fuck this shit,” he swore. “Jackie boy, will you put a drink in my hand?”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow, pulling away the bin to rinse it out. “You want a drink? Now?”

“Listen, if I’m going to be throwing up I may as well-” glitch “-be throwing up because of something productive.”

Wheeljack placed the bin in the shower and left it there. “Still glitching?”

“I don’t even notice.”

“I can’t tell if they’re getting worse or better. Gonna have to watch that.”

“Are getting me a drink, or am I gonna have to get it myself?”

Wheeljack didn’t say anything. He went down to the kitchen and brought back a bottle and a glass. When he handed Starscream the glass, Starscream frowned.

“What? I just get one? I haven’t had a drink in five hundred years.”

Wheeljack filled it up and told Starscream to drink. The engex was gone five seconds.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick at that rate,” Wheeljack said, taking a seat next to the bed.

“I’m already sick,” Starscream said, wagging his empty glass in Wheeljack’s direction. “Be a dear and pour me another.”

Wheeljack did as he was asked, but only a half glass this time. Starscream finished it off in one swig. He placed the glass on the floor and fell backwards. Within a minute he was out like a light.

Wheeljack finished off the bottle himself.

The next time he woke up it was to the sound of Starscream throwing up in the washroom. He was hunched over a drain, his entire frame seizing, and glitching. Wheeljack didn’t linger. He returned to the kitchen, and made up a cup of low-grade to ease Starscream’s poor overwhelmed tanks.

When Wheeljack returned to the washroom Starscream was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. He took the low-grade and drank it slow. Wheeljack sat down next to him.

“How you feelin’?”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Looks like you feel like scrap.”

Starscream groaned and pressed his palms into his eyes. “It feels like my body is fighting my mind. Or- my mind is fighting my body-” he let his hands drop. “I can’t tell.”

“You should keep resting. Your body is still resetting itself.”

“No,” Starscream rolled his eyes. “This is as reset as I’m going to get. I have permanent damage as a result of being brainwashed for five hundred years of my sorry life,” he settled his chin atop his knees. “I’ll probably never fully recover.”

Wheeljack readjusted himself on the floor. “Well I-” he paused, looking for the right words. “I’ll try to help best I can. If I can. I mean- I ain’t a medic but- yeah.”

Starscream stood. “I’m going back to bed.”

Wheeljack didn’t follow. For a while he stayed seated in the washroom. His limbs were heavy, his spark even heavier. It weighed him down, kept him seated. Thoughts flooded his mind, none of them good. Nothing reassuring. All the mistakes he had ever made weighed on him all of a sudden. They overwhelmed him. Captured him. Chained him to the ground.

Memories wrapped around his bodies like snakes. They squeezed, and bit, and rattled. A mind drifted apart from its body, letting it fall away. Leaving it behind.

Having a body had all of a sudden become so cumbersome. It would be a relief to be rid of it.

Just as the sigh left Wheeljack’s lip he was bought back. Something kicked him in the head. His eyes snapped open. Just above him he found Starscream’s face, contorted in a handsome sneer.

“Are you still drunk?” Starscream asked. “Get up. You’ve been on the floor in here for three hours.”

Wheeljack sat up. He rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands and shook his head. Had he passed out? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember falling asleep or laying down.

“I’m going to make dinner, what do you want?”

Wheeljack still didn’t have his head in order. “What?”

Starscream scowled. “Are there two of us here with brain damage? I said I’m making dinner. What do you want?”

Wheeljack turned around, but didn’t stand. “You’re making dinner.”

“Oh, for god sake-”

“No. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You stay inside and drink all day.” Starscream crossed his arms. “That could be part of it. Do you want dinner or not?”

“Uh-” Wheeljack shook his head and clenched his spark. “I think if I eat I’ll throw up.”

Starscream rolled his eyes. He turned on a heel and went for the door. “I throw up when I think too hard, you don’t see me complaining.”

Wheeljack forced himself to stand and followed Starscream downstairs.

“We’re out of anything worth while,” Starscream said, digging through the cupboards. “So I’m going to order service. Is there anything you’d like? Last chance.”

Wheeljack sat himself down at the kitchen table. “Copper. Just- all the copper.”

Starscream took the phone off the wall. He cleared his throat before dialing the estate.

“Good evening Master Chef. My Master has asked I order dinner from the estate this evening.”

Starscream spoke in the same tone he had before he got the modules replaced.

“Who is your Master, servent?”

“Master Wheeljack is my owner.”

“Ah. The new Master. What would the Master like this evening.”

“Master Wheeljack requests six Alloygator tails, a fried petro-rabbit, three roasted birds, four plates of fried nuggets, and three plated of copper shavings. Within the hour, please.”

“The Master is hungry today, I see. Needs his energy?”

“I would think so, Master Chef, Master Wheeljack has made great use of my services.”

“I have no doubts about that, Starscream. Tell your Master it will be there within the hour.”

Even on the phone Starscream bowed. “Thank you, Master Chef.”

Starscream’s smile dropped before the phone made it back on the receiver. He pointed a finger to his open mouth and gagged.

“These people can suck my spike an choke on it.”

Starscream wandered over to the couch and turned on the vid-screen.

“If you throw up I’m not cleaning up after it,” Starscream said. “Most of that food is for me, by the way.”

Wheeljack stood and moved to the couch. “I coulda guessed.”

“I’ll probably throw it right back up, but I don’t care. I’m hungry. Low grade isn’t cutting it.”

Wheeljack plopped down on the couch. “You really should try to take it easy.”

Starscream scowled. “You are so weird, Master Wheeljack, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “What’s so weird about wanting a sick person to take it easy for a while?”

Starscream tossed the remote back on the table. “Listen, Master, when people get to places like this they’re so overwhelmed by the wealth, and the glamour, and the free unlimited frags, that it ruins them-” he snapped. “Just like that. But you, freak that you are, you don’t care about any of that,” he crossed his arms and turned his attention back to the vid-screen. “You act like you’re being tortured and you just want to get it over with already. In the process, getting rid of every memory as it happens.”

Wheeljack settled back into the couch. “Yeah, well-” he muttered. “I hate this place, that’s probably why,” he sat up a little straighter. “And I ain’t a rapist, so I’m not about to frag a bot who ain’t got the ability to say ‘No,’ but the fact that this place can turn good bots into garbage scares the scrap outta me.”

Starscream chuckled. He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as a good bot. Even you, saint that you are, are bad in some way.”

“I’m impulsive, blunt, and mean. But havin’ flaws ain’t the same as being bad. I also don’t always know when to keep my mouth shut, and I drink too much. But I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

Starscream waved a hand on the air. “Oh, no, drinking yourself to death isn’t bad at all. Drinking yourself to sleep tonight. Drinking yourself into a blackout. Drinking yourself into a coma,” Starscream pinched his lips together. “Nah, that’s not bad. And you’re not in denial either.”

Wheeljack scowled. “Alright,” he ground out. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you do, but I don’t care enough to argue with you. If you want to drink yourself to death be my guest. I know I can’t stop you.”

“I am not gonna drink myself to death.”

“You have heard of engex poisoning, haven’t you?”

“I am not gonna drink myself to death.”

Starscream shifted so he was better facing Wheejack.

“See, engex poisoning is when you drink so much enegex, it becomes toxic. It tends to happen when you drink too much over a very short period of time. Like when you drink an entire bottle of triple distilled God’s Hand within twenty minutes. Or better yet, two whole bottles in less than an hour. Which I have seen you do. Twice.”

Starscream turned back to the vid-screen. “I’m genuinely surprised you aren’t dead.”

Wheeljack chose not to argue. Starscream seemed like a good speaker, and a stubborn soul. Arguing with him was futile, and Wheeljack didn’t have the energy to try.

When the food arrived Starscream answered the door. The soft smile he wore as a slave returned to his face. He bowed, an greeted the first bot in the door as Master, like he had greeted Kaput. The other bots that followed him scurried over and placed the plates on the table.

The bot, who Starscream had called Master Vortex, stayed by Starscream and watched his servants set the table.

“So, Starscream, this is your new Master,” Votex said, looking Wheeljack up and down. Vortex turned his attention back to Starscream. “I hope his spike is good.”

“I hope my Master is satisfied with my service,” Starscream said. “Master Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack snapped out of his trance. “What?”

Starscream gave him a pointed look, forcing the smile to stay on his face. “My services satisfy you. Right, Master Wheeljack?”

“What? Oh! Oh, yeah he’s- uhh- he’s great. Very good.”

Wheeljack gagged under his mask.

Vortex hummed, staring at Starscream, who wouldn’t stare back. Starscream didn’t even flinch at the finger traveling up his thigh, or the voice in his ear.

“Starscream used to be mine, ya know,” Vortex said, not tearing his gaze away from Starscream. “You got a good one,” Vortex said. “Starscream is one of the best in the business. Word on the Estate is, you had his settings changed. Nice, very nice. Makes things a little bit more interesting.”

Wheeljack cringed. “Sure,” he said. “Interesting.”

Wheeljack strode forward and grabbed Starscream by both arms to move him aside, and away from Vortex. Wheeljack put himself where Starscream once stood.

“Well, he’s mine now,” Wheeljack said, “and we got a busy night ahead of us, so if you’re done I think you gotta get goin’. Fellow Master.”

“Well,” Vortex stood up straight and snapped his fingers at his servants. “Alright. I guess we’re done here.”

The servants scurried to the door and bowed their heads as their Master strode past them. Starscream did the same on the other side of the door. Vortex stopped short in front of him and leaned in.

“I’ll be putting in a request for you,” he said, right into Starscream’s ear. “So you have something to look forward to.”

Vortex gave Starscream’s aft a quick squeeze before escaping out the door.

Thirty seconds after it closed Starscream punched the door so hard he nearly put a hole through it. He whipped around and stormed towards Wheeljack, rage wearing his face.

“Do not. Touch me,” Starscream growled. “If you touch me again, I will kill you.”

Wheeljack put his hands up. “Understood,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Starscream leaned away. “You’d better be.”

He abandoned Wheeljack and went to the table. Starscream tore off the metal lids and tossed them over his shoulder. When he found the three plates of copper he shoved them to one side, and took the rest for himself.

Wheeljack got out a new bottle of high grade, and sat down with his three plates of copper. Following Starscream’s lead, he didn’t bother with a fork.

Starscream finished off ten plates, and three drinks, before standing up and announcing he was going back to bed.

“Don’t wait up, feel free to finish whatever I didn’t eat.”

Starscream had left two Alloygator tails, a bird, and a plate of nuggets. Wheeljack put the metal lids back on the plates and stuck them in the fridge one on top of the other. He grabbed his half empty bottle, turned out the light, and headed upstairs. Instead of going to the room he’d been sleeping in, he passed it and went for a room with a bed.

Starscream stuck his head out. “Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack turned around so fast he nearly knocked himself over. “Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

“Me?”

“You are the only person here.”

“I was just gonna sleep in a bed tonight,” Wheeljack took a swig from his bottle. “Back’s startin’ to hurt.”

“Oh,” Starscream shrugged. “Well, alright then.”

“You want me to sleep in there with you?”

“Oh- no, I don’t care. Sleep wherever you want.”

“Okay.”

Starscream slipped back into the room and shut the door. Wheeljack went off on his own. He went into the first bedroom he found, collapsed into the berth, and fell asleep.

Deep into the night, when Wheeljack was just barely sober enough, he woke up. Even through blurred vision and a fogged mind Wheeljack could make out the distinct shape of Starscream sound asleep on the floor.


	10. Lesson to Lesson to Lesson

Wheeljack woke up rubbing his sore head. With all he drank he couldn’t imagine why his hangovers were still so intense. He quickly forgot the headache when the smell of something delicious whiffed past his olfactory sensor. He hummed, hoping Starscream would actually be willing to share this morning. Wheeljack’s empty, alcohol heavy tanks, rumbled for real food.

Wheeljack found Starscream downstairs at the stove, heating something up. It was most likely the left over from the night before. There still wasn’t much food in the house besides that since Starscream’s binge the morning before.

“Someone’s finally awake,” Starscream sneered.

Wheeljack took a seat at the kitchen table and leaned back. His head still hurt, and his tanks felt sick. He wasn’t sure if it was hunger, or if he was still recovering from all the high grade he had last night.

Starscream lazily tossed a plate in front of Wheeljack.

“Eat something,” Starscream said. “All you had was copper and alcohol last night.”

Wheeljack sat up. “You made somethin’ for me?”

Starscream rolled his eyes. “Well, I can’t just let you starve. You’d be helpless without me.”

“I’m sure I’d survive.”

“You’d be dead, moron,” Starscream made his own plate and sat at the opposite end of the table. He seemed much less hungry today. “You’d be dead in the middle of the floor, drowning in your own puke.”

Wheeljack cringed. “Ew. I would not be. I’ve lived alone most my life, I’d be fine.”

Starscream just shook his head and went back to his meal. When they finished Starscream did the dishes. Wheeljack let him.

“You got an invitation,” Starscream said as he dried the dishes. “It’s on the table.”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “Invitation for what?”

“For a Gala, duh,” Starscream flicked the water off his hands. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

Wheeljack watched as Starscream made his way to the table and swiped the invite. He read it aloud before shoving it in Wheeljack’s face to read himself.

“A Gala?” Wheeljack said. “What the hell is a Gala?”

Starscream rolled his eyes. He plucked the invitation out of Wheeljack’s hands. “It’s a big. Fancy. Party. All of the Master’s will be there.”

“Do I have ta go?”

Starscream shrugged. “You could skip it, technically. But Tyrest will send one of his little gremlins to come check on you. And unless you’re in the middle of fucking me, or dead, you don’t have a legitimate excuse.”

Wheeljack cringed. “Please don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“Ya know-” Wheeljack made a vague hand gesture. “About. Doin’ that ta you.”

“What? It’s true. Unless you’re interfacing with me, or dead, Tyrest won’t leave you alone about why you didn’t go. He’s paranoid, he’s going to think you’re betraying him.”

“So? Wha’do I care?”

“Do you want to live?”

Wheeljack didn’t answer immediately.

 

Starscream flapped his hand. “You know what? Don’t answer that. You have very little regard for your own health and safety. I, however, have great regard for my own. If you die I get given to another Master. Frankly, Wheeljack, I don’t want another Master,” he poked Wheeljack in the forehead. “So you’re going to live,” he pointed to himself. “And I’m going to teach you how.”

 

* * *

 

 

Wheeljack was sat down on the couch while Starscream tried to teach him everything he needed to know. Wheeljack was provided introductory videos on all of the Master’s. He just hadn’t watched them yet.

Starscream kept the remote in one hand, and a pointer stick in another. He flipped through every Master and told Wheeljack everything he needed to know about them. It should have been an effective system. If Starscream didn’t talk so fast.

“Vortex: Pervert, but he’s a priss. He’ll squeal if his energon is too cold, and throw a lamp across the table. He likes it rough. He likes hurting his Slaves, especially during interface. Soundwave: Calm, cool, calculating, the eyes and ears of the entire operation. Not a prick. Can tell when you’re lying. Not a big talker. Kaput: Inventor of the Slave Module. He is the Least perverted. He was my master for a moment before I was reassigned. Keeps to himself. Quiet. Private. A loner. He doesn’t want a servant, but he has one. Seaspray: Not a jerk, not a pervert. Very very naive. Onslaught: Part of Vortex’s team. Big. Mean. Calculating. He, Blast Off, Votex, Brawl, and Swindle are all part of Tyrest’s security team, the Combaticons. They’re mean, ruthless, and very efficient.”

Starscream went over what was probably fifty more names. When he was done he tested Wheeljack on everyone, and Wheeljack got absolutely no answers correct. After the third try Wheeljack started drinking, but didn’t fair any better on Starscream’s tests.

Starscream pinched his brow and groaned. “Okay,” he said. “Fine. You’re new, so they won’t expect you to know everyone. They’ll all introduce themselves. It’ll be fine. What you really need to know how to do is act.”

“What’s wrong with my acting?”

Starscream came to the couch and took the bottle out of Wheeljack’s hands.

“For one,” Starscream said. “We don’t drink straight out of the bottle,” Starscream smacked Wheeljack in the stomach with his pointer stick. “And we sit up straight. We don’t talk with a drawl, or an accent.”

“Ey, you don’t like the way I talk? I can make it worse.” Wheeljack challenged.

Starscream slapped his stick into his hand. “I don’t give a flying frag how you talk. They do. Tyrest is very very specific about his etiquette. And if you haven’t noticed, he’s a Glitch. So just do what I say when you’re around those people, alright? I don’t need us to end up dead because you couldn’t put the ing at the end of something.”

Wheeljack sat up straight and waved a hand on front of his face. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbled. “What else I gotta know.”

“Pretend you interface with me.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to go into detail, but if someone else is talking about it they will expect you to talk about it. Understand?”

“No. I don’t. That’s stupid. The interface here ain’t interface, it’s-”

Starscream put a hand up to stop him from speaking. “No tyrades. No soap boxes. No arguing. The only thing you argue about is whether or not the shrimp tastes good. You don’t talk about the city, or anywhere outside the estate unless people ask. People will ask. Don’t go into detail.”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Why not? Not like these people don’t know what’s goin’ on out there.”

Starscream rolled his eyes and placed his forehead in his head. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

Wheeljack sat forward. “Why you keep sayin’ that?”

“Because,” Starscream snapped. “It’s true. You know how bad they are. It’s easy for you to see. But Tyrest puts so many walls, and so much propaganda between you and them that they have no idea what Tyrest is doing. All they know is that what he does is good for them. It makes them rich. The rules in here are not the same as out there. If you go spouting your ridiculous anti-Leader rhetoric across the Estate Tyrest will have your head.”

Wheeljack frowned. “Ridiculous? How can you say that? You’re a slave to this-”

“Yes, Master Wheeljack,” Starscream snapped. “I am a slave. I’ve been these perverts’ whore and handmaid for five hundred years. This is all I know. I hate that. The only reason I give a shit if you survive is because if you don’t then I will be reassigned. I don’t want that. Do you?”

Wheeljack backed down. “No.”

“I thought so. Now listen up,” Starscream paced in front of the table. “The Gala is in three days. You have to bathe, sober up, polish, practice your fake laugh, and conversation topics. You are the least reformed mech I’ve ever met in my entire life. It’ll be hard. But I think we can do it.”

Wheeljack did not like any of the words Starscream was saying to him. Unfortunately his spark was weak to the trials and tribulations of others, and he would put in an effort if only to keep Starscream from being reassigned. Starscream was tough, and mean, and angry. Everything he had every right to be.

They practiced the names of the Masters, and etiquette for hours before Starscream gave up and let Wheeljack have his high grade back. Wheeljack was drunk in less than thirty minutes. Starscream had to make them dinner so Wheeljack didn’t kill himself with high grade. Having nothing to cook, and most of the leftovers gone, Starscream called to the estate again. This time he added, upon request of his Master, that Master Vortex not accompany the servants.

When the food arrived Starscream very harshly sat Wheeljack down at the kitchen table and demanded he eat.

As pitiful as Wheeljack was he wasn’t a bad mech. Starscream sipped his energon as he watched Wheeljack absently eat through his drunken haze. The mech certainly was different. He was straight out of the city. Brilliant. No formal training or school of any kind. He was a quiet drunk who just wanted to drink in peace. Starscream wondered if he’d be up for a bit of conversation.

“Say, Master Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack looked up from his food. “Hm?”

“Do you have an Amica?”

“Hmmm. No.”

“Hm. A conjux?”

“Nnnnnope.”

“Do you have friends at least?”

Wheeljack nodded wide. “Oh yeah. I- I was real good friends with the seekers opposite my corner when I’s was sellin’ stuff.”

“Were they vendors too?”

“Nah. They’s was prostitutes.”

Starscream’s mood shifted. He placed his cube down. “Oh.”

“They were run by a pimp. Slipstream. She was nasty. Didn’t like me ‘cause I sold-” he coughed. “I sold ‘em like. Protection an’ stuff, ya know? Condoms and shit. And-uh- my thing. The thing I made,” he put the bottle to his lips. “Can’t remember the name of it.”

Starscream suddenly found himself interested again. “What did it do?”

“It was a typ’a protection, ya see. It just protected ‘gainst everything. So, ya insert it- ya know, down there- an you can frag. Frag no problem. No worries. Protects everything under the sun.”

“Hm,” Starscream rested his chin on his hand. “Sounds very useful. Where’d you get it?”

“I invented it. An’ ya know. Every single thing I made, an’ I sold that I made, had the Wheeljack guarantee.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“My stuff,” Wheeljack swiped his hand through the air. “It don’t break. It breaks I pay for anything you’s gotta get done ‘cause it broke. And I replace it. Free’a charge.”

Starscream smirked. “Sounds like you put a lot of faith in yourself. How large was your payout?”

Wheeljack shook his head. “Nah. Nah. Ain’t never paid anyone. Only ever had to pay out one single time. An’ that wasn’t cause it broke it’s own. Someone sabotaged it. Right before I came here. Part’a the reason I came here. They kept shovin’ my friends in jail. Pimp wouldn’t bail, so I gotta. Thens I don’t got any money. Both’a them smokin me out till I signed that contract.”

Starscream cocked a brow. “Both?”

“Tyrest, an Slipstream. Slippy wanted me out, Tyrest wanted me in.”

Starscream furrowed his brow. “Seems odd a pimp would go after the one mech keeping her glitches from getting sparked. Or, you know, contracting anything.”

Wheeljack shook his head. “Nope. She din’ like me ‘cause all her employees loved me. Even asked me to be their pimp.”

“Did you say yes? Is that why she hated you?”

“No. No. I ain’t a pimp. No no no. No. I ain’t a pimp. I give ‘em a client when Slippy’ll smack ‘em ‘round if they don’t got enough cash for the night.”

“So you did interface with them.”

“Yeah, gave ‘em a nice tight valve to stick their spikes into.”

“And you let them spike you?”

“Yeah. I ain’t chasin’ nothin. Barely got any feelin’ down there. Least I can do is give ‘em a good time.”

Wheeljack chugged down the rest of his bottle and scarfed down the rest of his meal. Starscream was left to contemplate a few things. Wheeljack left his bottle and his dishes on the table as he wandered away to bed. Starscream didn’t bother to clean up. He was curious about something.

Starscream rushed to follow Wheeljack upstairs. He stepped in front of him and prepared to put on a good act. It didn’t take much to stop Wheeljack.

“I’ve been thinking,” Starscream said, putting on his bedroom eyes, and placing a hand on Wheeljack’s chest. “I know you haven’t made any advances. You’re an honorable mech, but-” Starscream smiled. “Would you want to frag me?”

Wheeljack didn’t even take a moment to think it over. He shook his head. “Nope.”

Wheeljack walked past Starscream and headed to the bedroom he’d been using last night. Starscream rushed forward again.

“Quick question,” he said. “Is there any reason why?”

Wheeljack had his hand on the knob. He turned part way around and shrugged. “Don’t feel that way towards people. If I don’t gotta I ain’t gonna,” he opened his door and went inside. “Night Starscream.”

Starscream stood in the hallway a moment more. Then a smile crept onto his face. He stormed back to his room, suddenly giddy with the thought that Wheeljack wasn’t someone he’d ever have to worry about. For once Starscream felt relaxed, and free to move about the house and his Master as he pleased.


	11. Gala to Gala to Gala

Wheeljack was woken up way too early in the morning for someone who downed three bottles of high grade the night before. Starscream dragged the drunk to his feet by the finial and shoved him into the washroom. Wheeljack had a hangover the size of Luna 1. His head hurt so badly he could hardly hear Starscream's blabbering, or feel the solvent on his plating.

Starscream sneered and swore to himself as he used a large sponge to get out the stickiness on Wheeljack's chest and windshield.

"Useless," Starscream muttered. "- _glitch_ \- Completely useless."

"You could'a just left me on the floor," Wheeljack slurred.

"No," Starscream snapped, throwing the sponge on the floor and replacing it with a washcloth. "I couldn't. I let you sleep all day. We've got three hours until the gala starts and neither of us are ready, and you're still - _glitch_ \- fragging drunk!"

Starscream slapped the washcloth over Wheeljack's shoulder and hosed him down with the removable shower head.

"I might be a - _glitch_ \- fragging servant, Jackie, but that is not our - _glitch_ \- arrangement. I will not be hauling your sorry - _glitch_ \- aft off the ground everyday, you hear me?"

Wheeljack nodded. He rubbed the fog from his eyes and clamped and unclamped his plating to wake himself up.

"Okay," Wheeljack said. He took the washcloth off his shoulders and rubbed it against his face. "I get it."

Starscream turned the faucet all the way to cold and sprayed Wheeljack in the face. "You'd better."

He turned off the shower and dragged Wheeljack into the washroom.

"Today is the only exception," Starscream said, covering Wheeljack's head with a towel and drying him off. "Just do exactly as I say."

"Got it."

"Stand still."

Starscream finished drying Wheeljack off before placing him in the chair in front of the vanity.

"Stay put," Starscream instructed. He went on the other side of the room and began digging through the drawers and things on the wall. He returned with an armful of supplies. Starscream knocked on Wheeljack's mask, requesting entry. Wheeljack granted it. Starscream proceeded to put stuff all over Wheeljack's face, scrubbing it into every seam and nook.

Starscream picked, plucked, and pulled at Wheeljack's plating. He made every rust spot disappear, and evened out the tones of Wheeljack's face. Throughout the entire process Starscream muttered and glitched and muttered and glitched. Wheeljack tried to tell Starscream that he should probably calm down a bit before he glitched himself into emergency stasis. 

"I'm perfectly calm," Starscream snapped. He finished up and let Wheeljack look at himself in the mirror. 

"I look like a doll," Wheeljack said, inspecting the now faded scars that blended seamlessly with the rest of his face.

Starscream did not respond. He had Wheeljack stand up for a thorough and intimate waxing. Wheeljack jumped when Starscream rubbed between his legs.

"Hold still." Starscream said. He squatted down in front of Wheeljack and rubbed his arm against the inside of his thigh. Wheeljack stepped back.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Paint transfers."

Wheeljack rolled his eyes. "Not this shit again," he muttered.

"I promise. They'll notice if you don't have them."

"So I spent all the time dolling myself up for paint transfers?"

"I'm not covering your crotch in red paint, calm down. If you have a hardy interface session, no matter how much you scrub, they're not all coming out. I'm giving you the light treatment."

Wheeljack only rolled his eyes. Starscream finished up, and stood up.

"Great. Now I've only got an hour to take care of myself."

Starscream showered quick, waxed, and darkened the dark around his eyes. Wheeljack couldn't see a difference, but Starscream insisted that they would. When Starscream was finished he looked down at himself and sneered.

"I'm a mess," he said. "But good enough. Now come on. The transport will be arriving any second."

"We're taking a transport?"

"Of course. What did you think I was going to do, walk there?"

Starscream walked Wheeljack downstairs and to the door. Before they exited Starscream composed himself. He fluttered his wings into the right position, stowed his bitterness, and put on a light smile. He dropped the smile and began muttering to himself.

"No no, I can't look too happy." He thought about it for a moment. He snapped his fingers. "Got it." Starscream lowered his wings slightly and poised his hands carefully at his sides. He wore a blank, but attentive expression, and lowered his chin just so.

"You have to lead me," Starscream instructed waved his hand for Wheeljack to go in front of him. "Quickly, the transport is probably already here."

Starscream suddenly went ridgid. He grabbed Wheeljack by the wrist and pulled him forward.

"Put some paint transfers on my thighs."

Wheeljack pulled away. "Ew, no."

Starscream glanced back at the door. He reached for Wheeljack's wrist again.

"Wheeljack, please."

Wheeljack groaned. "Fine," he said. He squatted down and rubbed the inside of his arm in the front and inside if Starscream's thigh. Starscream put his hands on his shoulders to steady himself. Wheeljack could feel the plating immediately tighten under his touch.

As soon as Wheeljack stood up the front door swing open. Starscream was back in his position as servant faster that Wheeljack had time to comprehend he was moving.

Swindle's sticky smile greeted them.

"Wheeljack. I thought that I would escort you to the Gala personally. You're going to be late."

"Sorry," Wheeljack said. "I was-" he glanced briefly at the work he'd done on Starscream's legs. "Busy."

Swindle nodded. "Understandable." He stepped aside and gestured out the door. "Shall we?"

Wheeljack kept an eye on Swindle all the way to the transport. Starscream obediently followed. He sat beside Wheeljack in the back of the open air transport. Swindle took something out of his subspace and walked towards StarscreamWheeljack put his arm in front of Starscream.

"What is that?" Wheeljack asked, pointing to the device in Swindle's hand.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt it. It's just an- inhibitor collar of sorts. Keeps him from causing any trouble."

"Do all of the slav- servants get them?"

"No. Tyrest's servants are well behaved," Swindle's smile was knowing and greasy when he threw it to Starscream.

Swindle moved to touch Starscream. Wheeljack got in the way again.

"What if I don't want him to?"

Swindle shoved Wheeljack's arm away. "I'm afraid you have no say in the matter."

Wheeljack looked like he was about to argue again, but a set of claws dug into the side of his thigh, stopping all protest. Wheeljack relented, and let Swindle grab Starscream by the head and stick the small circular shaped inhibitor onto his neck.

As soon as the deed was done they took off for Tyrest's house.

They were late, so they were the only ones arriving at the time. Swindle ushered them inside just in time to hear the end of Tyrest's long overwinded speech. Something about this prosperous occasion they all had the privilege of taking part in. Brought forward by the dedication and work of their underlings.

The people clapped for their leader. Wheeljack didn't want to, but Starscream not-so-subtly elbowed him in the side until he did. Tyrest took a seat in what Wheeljack could only imagine was his throne, and surveyed the party. He twirled his drink in his hands like a tired king, and rested his forehead upon his fingers.

The gala was packed. It took place in one of the many ballrooms scattered about Tyrest's excessive home. It, like the hallways, was decorated with paintings of Tyrest, hung between green curtains and stained glass windows. Above them six jeweled chandeliers hung. Wheeljack looked at them and imagined how much he could get for them. Just one of the jewels would be enough to buy a house or two, and then some.

There was a table of food in the center of the room, and others scattered around against the walls. A band played, people stood around and drank and chatted. Bits of laughter burst out across the room.

Wheeljack didn't know what to do at that point. He muttered out the side of his mouth, "what am I supposed ta do?"

"Socialize, Master Wheeljack" Starscream said back. "Galas are a celebration. You are new, so people will come to converse with you.”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. ‘Why you talkin’ like that?”

Starscream itched his neck where the small circular module was. “Talking like what, Master Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack got the hint. He nodded. “Nothin’ I just didn’t hear you right.”

Wheeljack huffed. He resisted the urge to wipe all the stuff off his face. He grabbed a drink from the bar and waited, just like Starscream told him to. Starscream stood obediently beside him, hands clasped behind his back, expression blank, head low.

It didn't take long for someone to come and greet Wheeljack. His name was Seaspray, and his voice was insufferable.

"Wow, so you're from the city?"

Wheeljack didn't let the face he was making reveal itself in his eyes. "That's right," he said, squeezing Seaspray's hand a little tighter. He let go before he caused any real damage.

"What's it like?" Seaspray asked.

Wheeljack shrugged. "It's-" he glanced back at Starscream. "It's. Fine."

Seaspray nodded. "I've always wanted to go to the city. But there's so much to do here I've never had to. How do you like the estate?"

Before Wheeljack could answer he was approached by another mech. He introduced himself as Tracks and asked the same questions that Seaspray did. Wheeljack was reluctant to answer. They asked all about the city and Wheeljack's friends, how he liked the estate. Wheeljack kept his answers vague, for the most part.

Then came the questions about the servants.

"He's a bit of a nasty one, isn't he?" Tracks asked.

Wheeljack shook his head. "No."

"We heard you adjusted his module so he wasn't so sensitive. You know why he was sensitive, don't you?"

Wheeljack shrugged. "No one ever told me anything about him."

Tracks and Seaspray exchanged a look. Tracks eyes darted to the subtle paint transfers on Wheeljack's thighs.

"You've- already figured it out, I'm guessing."

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. It suddenly dawned on him. "Oh. Oh! Oh yeah," Wheeljack drew his lips between his teeth while he thought up a lie. "I- like it rough," he said, trying not to sound too angry.

Tracks threw a glance to Starscream, who held a more reserved posture. Tracks smiled weakly. "Ah. I- see." He put his hand on Seaspray's shoulder. "Seaspray, my friend. Aren't those crusted alloygator tails on that table over there?"

Seaspray perked at the mention of such a dish. He hummed as he went in the direction Tracks was pointing.

Tracks stayed behind. "You know, Wheeljack, I have someone who I’d like you to meet." He said, wrapping his arm around Wheeljack's shoulder and leading him away. Wheeljack wasn't looking forward to meeting whoever it was Tracks assumed would match him in interest.

Wheeljack was correct in his assumption when Tracks introduced him to Vortex.

"Vortex, Wheeljack. Wheeljack, Vortex," Tracks said. He pat them both on the shoulder. "You two have fun."

Tracks left the two to eye eachother. Vortex looked Wheeljack up and down.

"Wheeljack."

"Vortex."

Vortex's eyes fell onto Starscream. Then back to Wheeljack.

"I heard you altered Starscream's controls."

"I did."

Vortex retracted his mask and smiled. "I did the same thing when I had him. Makes the game a little more fun." He took a sip of his drink. "I didn't take you for that kind of mech."

Dear Primus, did Wheeljack want to punch this mech in his stupid ugly mug. It took all of his willpower not to give into the temptation. Vortex was not making it easy.

"How are you enjoying him?" Vortex asked. "He's good, right?"

He really really was not making it easy.

"Yeah," Wheeljack said. "He's good. Doesn't always make it easy, but it's a good time."

Vortex nodded. "Nice," he chuckled, nudging Wheeljack in the arm. "Maybe you could let me borrow him sometimes, ey?"

"Eh, I don't think so."

Vortex chuckled. "I'll convince you. Hey," he wrapped his arm around Wheeljack's shoulders. "Come meet my buddies."

Wheeljack was real tired of people wrapping their arms around him. He let Vortex lead him away to a larger group of mechs.

Wheeljack only vaguely recognized them from Starscream's makeshift presentation.

The Combaticons.

They stood in a group. Wheeljack found that a bit odd for a group of mechs who were supposed to be for security. He supposed their job was not necessarily to secure buildings.

Vortex introduced him. They greeted him stiffly with narrowed eyes and tight plating. Vortex told them that they and Wheeljack shared a common interest.

"You like to keep to yourself, don't you?" Onslaught asked. "You were late this evening."

"I was busy," Wheeljack said, barely glancing at Starscream. "Got a little caught up in a good time."

One of the Combaticons cracked a smile. Wheeljack couldn't say who.

"Master Wheeljack, your drink is empty. Would you like me to get you a new one?" Starscream asked.

"Oh yeah, sure," Wheeljack said, handing over his glass.

Wheeljack returned to his act. As the conversation continued the Combaticons began to warm up to him. The steely glares eased up, and all of the plating unclamped. They weren't good mechs, and they weren't nice mechs, but Wheeljack figured if he was going to be living there it might do him some good to have some allies.

Starscream returned with the drink. Wheeljack emptied it soon enough and asked for another. Starscream replaced the drinks when he was asked. Starscream could see the soap box before Wheeljack even pulled it out.

Wheeljack was stupid, especially when he was drunk. Starscream prayed he wasn't stupid enough to miss flashing signals.

"Master Wheeljack, would you like another drink?"

"Yes I would."

Starscream went over to the bar and turned right back around.

"Master Wheeljack, they do not have the high grade you've been drinking. - _glitch_ \- Would you like me to have them open another bottle?"

Wheeljack stared at him for a minute. The Combaticons laughed.

"Yeah, sure, sure."

Starscream pulled the most subtle face he could. It took Wheeljack a minute, but he did catch on.

"Ya know what, I dunno if you're gettin' it. Let me go see what they got."

The Combaticons chuckled at him again.

"Doin' the servants job, ay, Wheeljack?" One of them commented.

"At least they're good from something." Another said.

Wheeljack pretended to chuckle with them as he stepped away.

Starscream kept close. "Master Wheeljack, please tell me when you’ve had enough high grade," he muttered out the side of his mouth. "Tyrests Galas are a celebration - _glitch_ \- You can get drunk here." Starscream shook his head as he said it.

Wheeljack frowned, receiving the message, but not liking it.

"You seem tense, Master,” Starscream took Wheeljack’s hand and placed it on the side of his thigh. “Would you like to take advantage of one of Lord Tyrest’s private rooms?”

"Fine," Wheeljack grumbled. "But I'm getting a drink first."

"Of course, Master."

Wheeljack asked for a whole bottle. There was a gross, sick feeling in his tanks as Starscream continued to replace his hand on his thigh as they walked them out of the party.

Starscream lead them into a hallway and into the third room on the left. Inside they found Kaput, and his servant. As soon as the door clicked shut Starscream put his finger to Wheeljack’s lips.

Kaput rolled over. Starscream took a knee, and let Kaput deactivate the module on his neck. Starscream breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. “Finally.”

Kaput crossed his arms. "I've been waiting for a half hour, Starscream."

Wheeljack paused. He furrowed his brow at Starscream.

"I'm sorry," Starscream stepped forward and handed something to Kaput. "Dragging him away from his friends proved difficult."

"They are not my friends." Wheeljack said.

Kaput rolled over to Wheeljack. He flicked his fingers gesturing for Wheeljack to lean down. Wheeljack did so.

Kaput slapped him. "What in Primus name are you thinking replacing all of a bots module's at once. Are you stupid?"

Starscream answered for him. "Yes."

"No," Wheeljack snapped, rubbing his jaw. "What the hell is going on here?"

Starscream took a seat on the berth at the feet of Kaput's servant who was laying on his back texting.

Kaput pat Starscream's knee.

“How are you feeling? Any improvements?’

“I’m still - _glitch_ \- glitching. But it’s not as bad as the first night.”

Wheeljack stepped forward. “The first night?”

“I called Kaput when I was struggling the most. He came to give me a check up.”

“How did I not know about this.”

Starscream frowned. “You drink yourself into a comma every night, Master. Getting around you is not thar hard.”

Kaput rolled back over to Wheeljack.

“I don’t care what you do, Wheeljack. Just don’t do it alone. The Compliance Module is a complex and delicate piece of machinery. We’re lucky Starscream didn’t come out with worse damage."

Wheeljack's clamped plating eased. "So you're not going to tell Tyrest."

Starscream placed a hand on Kaput's shoulder.

"Kaput lives away from the others. He came out as a special favor to me. I just had to return his things to him. The things you stole."

"I stole them to help you."

Kaput rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms. "You could have just asked."

"Well how the frag was I supposed to know what!?"

Kaput waved his hands about. "You're still new here. I don't expect you to know anything."

Starscream moved to stand beside Wheeljack. "Told you."

Wheeljack frowned.

"I want to give Starscream a check up at every opportunity. You’re new, so the frequency of my visits won't seem too suspicious for the first two months. Just call the estate first to summon me. We won't be planning anything ahead of time."

"Why do you wanna check him so often? He made it outta the glitch phase fine."

Kaput's expression dropped. "You're kidding, right?" He looked to Starscream. "He's kidding, right?"

"Primus, I wish he was." Starscream said.

Starscream looked at Wheeljack.

"Master, look me in the eyes."

Wheeljack did so. He did not fail to notice Starscream's blinks were out of step. One eye blinked just before the other. It was not so drastic that it was obvious, but drastic enough that it was noticeable if a bot was paying attention. Wheeljack was suddenly privy to all of Starscream's ticks. The tiny flick of his wing every five seconds. The stuttering of the lights in his eyes. There was still a quiet ticking sound coming from Starscream's body that was only audible when Wheeljack stood so close.

"Okay," Wheeljack said. "You're right. I'm an idiot."

"Oh, he finally admits it." Starscream smirked. His entire body glitched. He shook off the feeling and returned to smirking.

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. "That really doesn't hurt you?"

Starscream's smirk disappeared. "It's a nuisance more than anything."

Wheeljack wasn't sure if he believed him, but he left that matter alone.

“If you get another servant, don't do something so idiotic, understand?" Kaput said.

Wheeljack nodded. "I understand."

Kaput gave a curt nod. "Good," he gestured for his servant. "Come on Sandstorm."

Sandstorm stood up and followed Kaput without even looking up from his device. Starscream scowled at him.

"Ingrate," he muttered to himself.

Sandstorm flipped him off. He and Kaput left through a back door. Kaput was the exception to the "dead or fragging” rule. He'd never been to a gala and Tyrest had given up on trying to make him.

Wheeljack and Starscream were left alone. Starscream flopped back onto the berth and let out a long sigh.

"Let's just stay in here for the rest of the night."

Wheeljack sat down on the edge of the berth. “Is that really an option?”

Starscream groaned. “No. Not really. Not unless you want to rub our crotches together to make it look like we - _glitch_ \- really really went at it.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

Starscream closed his eyes. “We have five minutes, tops.”

Wheeljack fiddled his fingers against his knee. There wasn’t much of anything to say. He didn’t have enough drinks in his system to slur on about something stupid, or be content with doing nothing. The five minutes felt like thirty seconds when Starscream rolled off the bed and stretched. He sighed.

“Alright, let’s get back out there. They’re probably all sufficiently drunk enough they won’t notice the lack of transfers.”

Starscream was right. The party was wild enough now that no one seemed to be noticing anything. Or if they did they wouldn’t remember the next day. Wheeljack wanted to go off on his own and get a few drinks, but Starscream steered him back to the Combaticons.

“You want to make friends, don’t you?”

Wheeljack only grumbled. No matter how smart it was to get buddy buddy with the worst of them, that didn’t mean Wheeljack truly felt more obligated to do it. Yet, there he was, laughing and joking with the Combaticons. They told him stories he didn’t want to hear, Wheeljack made up things that didn’t happen.

“I had a servant once,” Brawl said. “He was the worst at making drinks. The absolute worst. I probably threw every drink he ever made me right back at him. How’s the screamer, Wheeljack? I never asked him to make me a drink,” he smirked. “We were too busy doing other things.”

Wheeljack felt bile rise in his throat. There was a sick feeling in his tank.

“He does good,” Wheeljack said. “Best drinks I ever had.”

The Combaticons nodded with praise.

“Now that is a servant to have,” Brawl said. “Get you one who can do both, ya know? You know what, how come that isn’t in the programming? The ability to make a good drink. That’s really what we all need,” he nudged his friends in the arm. “Gonna put in for that next time I see Kaput,” he chuckled.

Blast off scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Good luck. You know Kaput doesn’t take requests.”

“Maybe he’ll take this one. Just this one time.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Wheeljack sort of chuckled. “What? Kaput your only guy or somethin’?”

The Combaticons exchanged a series of looks. Onslaught answered.

“Kaput invented the module. He’s the only one of us who knows the ins and outs of it. Just about the only reason Tyrest keeps him around anymore.”

Wheeljack drew back, but tried to keep himself from looking too surprised. “He invented it? The whole thing?”

Blast off nodded. “That’s right.”

“Huh,” Wheeljack resisted the urge to scratch his finial. He forced himself to smile. “Well that’s one hell of an invention, ain’t it? Where the hell would we be without that thing, am I right?”

The Combaticons nodded and raised their drinks in agreement. Swindle approached them and raised his glass with them.

“What are we all cheering about?” he asked.

Brawl punched him in the arm. “Oh look everyone, Tyrest’s lap dog decided to grace us with his presence.”

Swindle chuckled. “Opportunity, boys. Not my fault you didn’t take yours.” his eyes landed on Wheeljack. “Making friends?” he asked.

Wheeljack wasn’t sure who Swindle was addressing so he didn’t answer.

Vortex wrapped his arm around Wheeljack’s shoulders and shook.

“We’re learning us and the new master here have a bit of a common interest.” Vortex said.

“Maybe a few more than a bit,” Wheeljack added.

Vortex pat him on the back. “Hell yeah.”

Swindle eyed Wheeljack for a long time.

“How interesting,” Swindle muttered. He looked briefly at Onslaught, then addressed the group. “Well, I just came to say hi. I have to get back to my post. On Tyrests lap, I think, right?”

The Combaticons hollered after him. Swindle ignored them.

The conversation continued as normal. Starscream continued to get Wheeljack drinks, none of them alcoholic. Once everyone was truly sufficiently drunk Wheeljack left. He wanted to get home to his own party where he could drink without interruption, or fear of stepping onto his soap box, as Starscream said.

Wheeljack stepped onto one of the transports that was already waiting outside, and headed home. As soon as they arrived Wheeljack went to the cupboard and wasted no time getting himself a drink. Before he could get very far Starscream swiped the bottle from his hand and poured a glass. He handed the glass to Wheeljack and took the bottle for himself.

“Do we have any fragging food in this house?” Starscream asked. He took a long swig from the bottle.

“I dunno, you eat most of it,” Wheeljack stole the bottle back and took a swig for himself.

“Get your own,” Starscream swiped the bottle. “You have more than enough.”

Wheeljack grumbled as he dug through one of the lower shelves. “We’re runnin’ out.”

“Well whose fault is that?”

Starscream opened up the cooler and took out some leftovers from dinner the night before. He didn’t bother heating it up, he ate straight from the container with his hands.

They sat down on the couch and drank, and ate, and watched the vid-screen.

“I need to get this crap off my face,” Wheeljack grumbled, rubbing his hands against his smooth, makeup covered face. “I need a shower.”

“Then go take one,” Starscream muttered back.

Wheeljack didn’t move. He tapped his fingers against the bottle.

“You need a shower?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“You take one first.”

“There are, like, six showers in the house.”

Wheeljack was silent for a minute.

“I want the big bed,” he said.

“No.”

“Please.”

“You forfeited the big bed,” Starscream took a swig from his bottle. “It’s mine now.”

Wheeljack groaned in disappointment.

After a while they both took showers, and got ready for bed. By then they were both sufficiently drunk, and very bad at moving. Starscream helped Wheeljack wash the stuff off his face, and steered him to the shower to finish washing off. Starscream smacked him in the aft.

“Clean.”

Wheeljack only grumbled in response. Starscream turned on the shower for him, but when he stepped back he nearly fell over himself.

Starscream went to one of the other showers to wash himself. When they were done they both toweled off and made their way to the big bed in the master suit. Starscream fell face first onto the berth. Wheeljack missed. Starscream laughed at him so hard he cried, but Wheeljack was already asleep.

Starscream placed a blanket over Wheeljack and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have a hard time imagining exactly what glitching is, it's sort of like a nervous tick. He tenses and twitches, and cant control it.


End file.
